Pulled Together, Pulled Apart
by Slick Black Velvet
Summary: Sarah and Samantha leave their crappy jobs to go on a road trip together. Something, or someone, is pushing them in another direction. They're forced to turn around, and Sarah finds that the Supernatural book series might hold more truth than people are led to believe...Rated M for later lemons. Slight AU, does not follow series storyline. This is mine. :)
1. Beginning

Cutler, Maine

8 days ago

Rain pelted the pavement making driving nearly impossible. Late in the evening, the darkness was impossible all on it's own, but as the water attacked the windshield of the 2009 volkswagon beetle, the car pulled to the side of the road, lights looming forward then shutting off with the engine.

"There's absolutely no way I'm driving in this," the driver said, turning to face her sister in the passenger seat.

"It's a country road, Sarah. We're not in the city, you should be able to drive no problem," the smirk held the tale of an old joke between the two.

"Seriously, Mantha, I can't drive in this rain, and neither can you."

Samantha shook her head and rolled her eyes, reaching over to unbuckle her belt. She reached her hand to the handle, opening the door, and came around to the driver side. Opening Sarah's door, she jerked a thumb in a way that told her to shove over.

"You're nuts," Sarah said, shaking her head, and unbuckling as well. Still, she got out, holding her hands over her own black locks to attempt to shield the rain. It wouldn't help, though, and by morning her naturally curly hair would be a mass of frizz.

Samantha tossed her own red locks, before getting in the drivers seat. Taking a seat she placed her hands on the wheel.

"City driving, plus snow, Sarah. I can handle a little rain," she closed the door and waited for Sarah to make her way around and get in. Still, she tied her straight locks, the same length as her sisters, at the nape of her neck. Buckling her belt, and Sarah following the same, they both turned their near white blue eyes to the road as the rain continued to attack the car. They both paused.

"Honestly, I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you'd just wait until the rain slows down," Sarah said, frowning.

Samantha heaved a sigh and leaned back in her seat.

"We have no idea when that will be. And a bed is sounding amazing right now..."

"Nice warm bed?"

"Yeah...with a nice warm guy..."

Sarah laughed.

"This road trip isn't really turning out like I thought it would, Sis," Samantha said frowning.

"It's just rain..."

"That's my point!" Samantha threw an arm out toward the windshield, "It's been one hiccup after another. We've only been gone about a week, and we have a months worth of vacation left before we have to go back to stupid jobs in stupid cubicles."

Sarah sighed too and rested back in much the same way, "Are you saying you wanna call it quits and just go back?"

"Fuck that!" Samantha responded with a scoff, "No way in hell."

They sat for a moment, and Sarah reached forward to turn the music up a bit. The rain continued to pelt their car and Sarah rested her eyes against the door jamb. Samantha glanced back and forth along the road slowly, watching the rain. She was aggitated, and desperately did not want to turn back. First they'd popped a tire in New York, then they'd locked the keys in the car in Rhode Island. Now this rain was making it impossible to go any further. Every single time they made travel progress, something slowed them down. It was as if they weren't allowed to take this vacation.

Several minutes passed, Sarah dozing softly in the passenger seat, and Samantha reflecting on how much more she could take of this job. The radio was playing softly before, oddly, it began to hiss, static coming through. Samantha reached forward to the buttons and pressed a few, confused as to why the music suddenly cut out.

"Weird..."

"What is?" Sarah murmured without opening her eyes.

"The music cut out."

"Maybe the storm cut it."

"I guess..." Still, she continued to press buttons. Pursing her lips, she leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. Suddenly, the speakers started to squeal, high and loud. The windshield wipers began moving double time across the glass. Sarah jerked from her dozing position.

"What did you do?!" She yelled, attempting to scream over the squeal of the speakers.

"I didn't do anything!" Samantha continued to try to shut it off, turning the volume knob down until it wouldn't move any further. At that moment, the lights began to flicker on and off, as if the car itself had a short, and had lost complete control. The ground around them began to shake. They didn't even have time to look at one another, both momentarily scared out of their wits.

"Fuck this," Samantha screamed, and turned the key to start the engine. Pressing her foot to the gas, she sped onto the road, driving as fast as she could.

"You're gonna kill us!" Sarah screamed.

She continued to drive, caring nothing for the rain that pelted them or if she could see. All they could hear was the screeching in the speakers and she sped on.

"Slow down!" Sarah yelled again.

"You've watched enough fucking scary movies to know exactly what's going on right now! We need to move!"

They continued to speed across the road, wrecklessly. Samantha's hands tight on the wheel, knuckles white, eyes on the road. Sarah held to the bar above her door for dear life as they raced through, though she held another hand to her ear. Slowly, as they continued, the screeching began to quiet. Eventually, though they still drove, it quieted completely. The wipers slowed back to the normal speed, and the music resumed on the radio. Breathing heavily, trying not to panic, Samantha continued to drive, but now at a much reduced speed.

"Okay...okay...what was that back there?" Sarah was more talking to herself then asking.

"No idea. But I'm glad we're way the hell away from it..."

York Springs, Pennsylvania  
2 days ago

"Wakey wakey Sunshine!"

Samantha poked her head from under the dingy pillow to glare. The sight of an overly happy, beaming even, Sarah met her sleep filled eyes. Behind her, the maroon and white striped wallpaper and curtains of the crappy motel room. She bared her teeth and growled, before pulling the pillow over her eyes to mutter from underneath it.

"If it's any earlier than ten, I'm going to shoot you."

Sarah laughed, pulled the covers away, and poked her in the side, knowing full well that she wasn't ticklish and it would only further annoy her.

"It's seven thirty, and all the weapons are in the trunk, because you forgot to bring in your bag last night."

"No logic until ten."

They'd driven until well after midnight before finally stopping off in the small town. They had been so tired they hadn't even cared to ask what town, only got a room and collapsed into the beds soon after opening the doors. It seemed, if they didn't travel at least a full four hundred miles without stopping, whatever it was making the car go insane, ended up finding them. Whoever, whatever, it was however, was not quiet about it's approaching presence, so they'd been able to outrun it every time it got close.

"I have coffee," Sarah responded in a sing song voice.

Sarah hated coffee and that fact alone roused Samantha from the last bit of sleep she'd wanted to hang on to. If there was coffee, it meant it was for her and she had to be nice. Ish. Sitting up, a grimace fixed on her face, she took the paper cup that was held out to her. Taking a sip, she fought the smile and pang of guilt. Spoon of sugar, splash of cream. It was nice to know Sarah remembered Samantha's likes, as much as Samantha remembered Sarah's. Now if only she wasn't such a damn morning person.

"So, what, pray tell, is the reason I'm awake before God?"

"God wakes up at dawn, goober."

"Sarah..."

"I got a lead," she waved a card at her, smiling ear to ear.

"You know," Samantha said, still not fully awake, "If we finally find these guys, IF they're real, they're going to think we're stalking them."

Sarah laughed. At seven thirty in the morning.

"WHEN we finally find these guys, they're going to be able to figure out why we're being chased across the Earth. So wakey wakey. We have some driving to do," Sarah rose and began to put on her shoes.

Samantha set the cup on the nightstand beside her and laid back down.

"You drive. I'm sleeping in the car." 


	2. Hunted

Sleep. It was one thing Samantha was greatful for. Sarah was usually awake in the mornings and asleep in the late evenings. Samantha, though...she never could seem to get enough sleep. She'd be up until about 2am before her brain would finally allow her eyes to close, and even then she couldn't stay gripped to the blissful peace and quiet sleep was supposed to bring. So even though her eyes were closed, she was not fully sleeping as the car chugged along the road.

"You awake?" Sarah asked quietly. They'd been driving for about three hours, and it had been near silent in the car, save for the soft playing of music from the radio. That, and the sound of the road passing them by through the open windows.

"No."

"C'mon, I need to talk to you."

Groaning, Samantha turned from the window in her curled position. She was short, standing at her full height, only 4'10, so she was easily able to curl into the seat, her legs beneath her. Blinking her eyes open slowly, she looked to Sarah. There was no blood there. No link by parents, but dammit, that was her sister in every other sense.

"Eyes open. Where are we going?"

"Kentucky."

"Your home?"

Sarah shook her head, "No, just south. That's where they were last seen."

Sighing this time, Samantha stretched her legs and rose a bit in her seat, leaning it back. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out the smokes and brought one to her lips. She spoke around it as she lit the paper with a lighter she procurred from her bra, "So, what really makes you think these guys exist. Or that they can help with whatever's chasing us?"

Sarah glanced over to her and grimaced at the cancer stick between her lips, before turning her eyes back to the road, "I read all the books, Mantha. And in one of them, the guys had a run in with the FBI. I got curious when we had our brush with our own bit of 'Supernatural' and cross checked it. Sam and Dean actually exist in the FBI database."

"Yeah..." Samantha responded taking a deep drag, "But there's no guarantee that the Dean and Sam from the books are the same ones in the FBI database. And since when are you all Nancy Drew?"

Sarah gave her a withering look, then rolled her eyes, "Just because we work at a crappy, stupid job, doesn't mean we're idiots. Besides. I watch a lot of SVU."

"...seriously?"

Sarah waved a hand, "Irrelevent, the point is, if we can find them, they can help us. And don't get on me about sluething okay, since when do you pack and arsenal to go on vacation?"

"I was a girl scout."  
"What?"

"You know... 'Be prepared' ?" Samantha said, gesturing her hand and holding up two fingers.

"That's boy scouts."

"Okay, whatever, I don't like travelling unarmed. And anyway, it's a good thing we did if these guys are anything like they are in the books. Dean sounds like he's a shoot first, as questions later kind of guy. I'm not going anywhere near these guys unarmed."

Silence passed over them and Sarah kept her eyes to the road ahead. Honestly, she wasn't completely positive these guys could help them. In fact, though she'd never tell Samantha, her sluething had been pure dumb luck. She'd managed to hack the system and boom, Sam and Dean, pictures clear as day. Everything else just clicked.

"So tell me about this lead," Samantha said, flicking the butt of the smoke out the window, "How'd you find out where they'd been last."

"It's actually pretty creepy. If the books are real, that opens up a whole new box of weird you and I have never really had experience with."

"What," Samantha responded, "Like ghosts, and demons and shit?"

"Yes," Sarah said, nodding, "Like ghosts and demons and...stuff."

Samantha laughed at Sarah's alteration of her words, before growing serious again.

"So if the books are real, then so is everything in it. Not just the guys, but...but everything?"

Sarah nodded, "So I looked up some of the names in the books. First, I had nothing. People who didn't exist, were actually made up, and so on. But then, I got lucky. Guy named Jason Tripler. Claimed to be a 'hunter' like the Winchesters, told me the last he'd seen of them was yesterday in Stearns, Kentucky."

"The hell were they doing there?"

"Working a case, from what I hear. Anyway, I thought it might be worth checking out."

"Okay, well, if you're done, I can take over driving Flint."

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Okay."

"What?"

"I still say where you grew up is a stupid name for a car."

"Oh shut up," Samantha said with a smirk, "It's cute and you know it."

***** 

Stearns, Kentucky

Samantha pulled into the town, glancing about at the shops. It didn't look like much. In fact, it looked like very little, and she momentarily marvelled at the silence of it. Pulling into a parking space before a quaint little shop, she shut off the engine and got out, pulling her gun from the mid compartment and putting it behind her back in her jeans. She pulled her white tank over it and turned to Sarah as she got out of the passenger seat. She handed her the other handgun, and Sarah took it reluctantly, placing it too in the wasteband of her pants. Sarah looked around, her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Oddly, today they matched in clothing, though Sarah was quite a bit taller than Samantha, standing at 5'4. She looked back and forth on the street, before turning to her sister.

"It's too quiet, right?"

Samantha nodded, "Way too. Where are all the people?"

The place was practically deserted. They both closed their doors and Samantha hit the button on her keys to lock it. There wasn't even a car parked, though lines painted the streets before other shops. Antique stores, pawn shops, and a small diner on one side of the street. A post office, and a few odds and ends stores on the other, but people were completely missing.

"Listen..." Samantha said frowning, "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah..." Sarah was whispering now, "Not even birds..."

They stepped onto the sidewalk and glanced about further, walking down the street. Sarah moved to a window and cupped her hands around her face to peer inside.

"It's empty. They are all completely empty."

"I thought you said that Jason guy called you from here."

"He did..."

"What, he moved in two days?"

Sarah gave her a look, before sticking out her tongue.

"That's helpful," Samantha responded.

"So is sarcasm," Sarah muttered in return.

They continued along the street perplexed at the silence and desertion, before they turned the corner.

"What the fuck?" Samantha muttered, baffled.

The town ended abruptly, and before them stood a large townhouse. White and brown striped, with brown shutters to match. A small set of stairs led up to the porch, and on each side stood two tall rose bushes. The roses, however, were completely dead, along with all the other foliage in the yard. A soft gravel road led up to the porch, but was stopping their path by a large metal gate.

"Well this looks completely in place here," Samantha said.

"It's like it just...jutted out of the ground at random," Sarah replied.

Samantha moved forward and tested the gate, pulling it, then pushing, and the door swung open with a loud creak. The two women exchanged a look. This was officially creepy now. Samantha reached behind her and pulled out her gun, Sarah, despite her better judgement, pulled out the one Mantha had given to her as well. Slowly, they walked across the dead grass and up to the porch. Stepping up the stairs, they moved forward further, ready to enter the home. Sarah frowned at the door, as it was already open, and hanging as if it had been kicked in.

Carefully, they both moved across the floor inside, after first moving around the splintered door. Sarah thought at first to call out, ask if anyone was home, but thought better of it. Samantha was having the exact same thought. They watched movies. One did not call out in a deserted town, in a deserted home, unless they wanted to die.

Samantha gestured with her head, telling Sarah to go to the right, and she made her own way up the stairs. Sarah nodded and crept along the bottom floor, bending to glance at a busted photo. Glass was shattered around it and in pieces. She lifted it to look and saw a small child with her mother. It was captured perfectly, their laughter and happiness. Odd...She started to rise.

A sudden click of a gun made her freeze.

Silence. Too quiet. The only sound Samantha's heart pounding in her ears. She creeped along the upstairs hallway, shoving open a door with her shoulder. A soft crème colored room, a fancy antique bed, with rose petal linens. This was strange. She was about to turn to yell down to Sarah that there was nothing here. Until a screech, deafening to her in the silence, made Samantha whirl around toward an open doorway.

Facing the barrel of another loaded gun.


	3. Trapped

Until a screech, defeaning in the silence, made Samantha whirl around toward an open doorway. Facing the barrel of another loaded gun...

Samantha frowned, the blues of her eyes darkening as she narrowed the lids at the man in front of her. He was clean shaven, and shocked to see her there, though a muscle ticked in his jaw at the tension. Thick in the air, and she kept her gun trained on him. He was tall, almost two feet taller than herself. Sandy brown hair dipped over his ears. His eyes were dark, a deep hazel, with a circle of green about the edges. Though she wouldn't notice that now. All she could note was the barrel of the gun he had aimed at her green shirt.

She should've chosen something a bit less obnoxious, she though idly. But she hadn't expected the place to have someone in it with a loaded gun. Her ownshirt went over her freckled shoulders with thin straps. A large unicorn was on the front, and he was stomping uncooked bread. A caption beneath him read, "Pony up the dough." Sarah's shirt downstairs was equally as obnoxious. A bright pink tank, three finger straps over her very slightly darker shoulders. A large cat face, text like, adorned it's front and it read, "Are you kitten me right meow?" The girls were funny. They made their own fun.

Now though, was no laughing matter. She didn't know his name, but she drew in his clothing. He was clean, wearing a flannel shirt, blue and white, beneath a light brown jacket. Jeans. Everyone wore jeans, she thought quickly, before it passed from her head.

"I take it I'm intruding?" Samantha said, holding her gun firmly.

"Who are you? You live here?" Interesting voice. Soft yet comanding. She shook her head.

"We're here looking for some people," She turned her head to the side a bit, but never took her eyes off of that gun. She shouted down the stairs, "Sis? You alright?"

Sarah was having her own mini panic attack. It wasn't usually easy to sneak up on her. She watched way more scary movies than Samantha did, but the mustery of the town had dropped her guard even momentarily. Slowly, she stood, her throat raw from the scream that had snuck from her in shock. There hadn't even been enough time to take out her own weapon, so she shakily held up her hands in peace gesture. The man behind the barrel was tall as well, though slightly shorter than the man upstairs. Not as clean shaven, a harder face. The years had worn him a bit, and his lighter hazel eyes were hard, his brows drawn down in anger or frustration. His hair was cut shorter, jutting up in different directions, a deeper brown as well. Shoot first, ask later. Having had the privilage of seeing the FBI shots, she knew it was Dean in front of her. Different in person, she thought a moment, and swallowed to answer Samantha.

"Um...I don't know."

"Sam? You okay?" Dean shouted up the stairs, also not taking his eyes off of Sarah.

"Don't know," Sam responded, "You got a gun on you?"

"No."

"Then we have the upper hand here."

Samantha frowned. They had a gun on Sarah...And the voice from downstairs had addressed the man before her by his name. Sam. Meaning it was Sam and Dean. Dammit. She allowed the gun to slip from her fingers a bit, and she put it behind her shirt.

"Well if this is how you're going to help us, we'll find someone else," Samantha said, annoyed.

"What?" Dean practically growled from below. The house was silent, and apparently her voice was travelling.

Sarah spoke to him then, annoyed herself, "You mind taking that gun off me? We were looking for the two of you."

Sam tilted his head at Samantha, "Why?"

Rolling her eyes to the sky, she walked toward the staircase, ignoring the gun now, or attempting to make him think she didn't care. Walking down the steps, she entered the room to the right where Dean still held Sarah at gunpoint.

"Drop your damn gun, Dean. We're not who you need to shoot."

The look on his face almost made her laugh, if the tension wasn't still so thick in the air.

"Who are you?" he asked, though he lowered his weapon. Footsteps behind her let her know that Sam was coming down the stairs.

"You don't know us..." Sarah responded, "But we sought you out. We came to you for help, but by the looks of the town, you're working a case."

The men exchanged a look.

"Yeah yeah," Samantha said, highly irritated, "We know what you do, and we'll address that later, but right now, wanna tell us why the towns empty?"

Sam blinked, and Dean crossed his arms, tilting his head trying to figure them out. Sarah shook her own, her black locks dancing around her face.

"Jason Triplett told us you were here."

"You know Jason?" Sam asked. 

"Not really, no. He's in the books." Sarah responded, eyes on Sam now.

"I knew that was gonna come back to haunt us," Dean muttered. 

"Where is he?" Samantha spoke up, "He told us he was here and so were you."

Sam took a deep breath and sighed, "He went missing about two hours ago, with everyone else in the town. For some reason, we weren't on that bus."

"There was a bus?" 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We don't work with others, girls. Why don't you take off to the next town, and we'll come get you when we've worked this?"

"Screw that," Sarah said, turning back to Dean, her own brows drawn down now, "Just because we came to you for help, doesn't mean we don't know anything."

"Actually," Dean responded, stepping forward, "That's exactly what it means."

"We can help! We can!" Sarah had her fists at her sides, and stepped toward Dean a bit.

"Unless you plan on helping by getting yourself killed, I suggest you high tail it!" Matching her for anger, he crossed his arms again, giving her a smug look.

"You assume it'd be us that get killed?"

"Oh yeah, you seemed to be doing real well not looking when you had a gun pulled on you."

"Listen, you chauv-"

"Sarah..." Samantha interupted, her brain working quickly, "It's okay. They don't want our help, fine. We can figure this out without them."

"You can?" Sam looked at them, incredulously.

"We can. We don't need your help. It was a mistake to seek you out."

"Now wait a minute..." Sam frowned.

"No Sammy, it's okay. If the little girls want to get themselves killed, that's their choice."

Now Samantha turned to him, stepping forward and jabbing him in the chest with a finger, "Oh man, those books got you pegged good, don't they? A chauvenistic pig of a man, using women like napkins, sleeping with whoever's around, and treating other people like trash. Spot on."

"That's nothing-"

"Nothing like you? Oh yeah, clearly." A scoff escaped, "Let's go, Sarah."

Turning, she walked toward the doorway, Sarah ready to follow behind her.

Wide eyed, the four watched as the door rose, broken, from the frame. Swiftly, it reattached itself to it's other pieces and closed, slamming.

"...or not..."


	4. The Winchesters

Turning, she walked toward the doorway, Sarah ready to follow behind her.

Wide eyed, the four watched as the door rose, broken, from the frame. Swiftly, it reattached itself to it's other pieces and closed, slamming.

"...or not..."

Dean moved quicker than the rest of them, Sam following closely behind, and the attempted to open the door. Nothing. They stepped back at the same time and Dean raised his leg, kicking at it. It didn't move.

"It's easier to kick a door in than out..." Sarah said, quietly, officially spooked.

"Yeah well, I can't exactly kick it in if we're in already, can I?"

Samantha frowned then, stepping toward them, "Wanna tell us about the case now, Winchester? Since it seems we're involved now."

"Dammit..."

Sam turned to her, "The town was bustling when we got here. People going to and fro, and then in seconds, they vanished. We watched them vanish, all at the same time. Jason didn't, and we were all looking around when he went missing."

Samantha nodded, "Any ideas?"

"We came in here, and were looking around because the house seemed to just...appear out of thin air."

"Ghost house? Great..." Sarah whispered.

"We'd thought it looked out of place."

"There had been disappearances here which is how we found out in the first place. Finding Jason here was by chance. There's been disappearances though, as far back as 1886 in this town."

"Fabulous," Samantha muttered.

"Again we ask, any ideas? What it is?"

"We got nothing. Nothing we know of can evaporate an entire town in ten seconds."

Dean hit the door in frustration, annoyed that they had to in fact work with people they didn't know, let alone trust.

"We have books, that's what we have. So, girlies, saddle up and start research mode, because we have about an hour before this house vanishes again."

"How do you know?" Sarah asked, purposely ignoring his rudeness.

"Because that's what happens. There's rumors of this house but no one has seen it for longer than three hours. It's been here two. Jason came in, and never came out."

"Well this is a bucket of fun," Samantha growled, crossing her arms.

"We can talk about the why you're here later, right now," Sam said, "We need to figure out how to get out. What we're dealing with."

The girls nodded and Dean moved across the open room. There was a small desk in the corner, a fireplace on the far right. Soft brown hardwood floors were scuffed and scratched by years of wear and tear, but the home itself didn't look old. In fact, it was nearly modern. That baffled Sarah, as she was thinking of it, while Sam and Samantha opened a few books.

"If this place has been around since 1886, why does it look brand new?"

"What a good looking question," Dean responded, voice dripping with disdain.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam said, irritated himself now, "Your attitude is so not helping."

They all grew silent, scouring books. The only sound the occasional flipping of pages. Sarah sat, back leaning against the desk, one leg out and the other crossed over it. Samantha sat cross legged a few feet over, a book in her lap. Page after page flipped, Sam sitting diagonal from her, crouched. Dean stood, looking in his own book, just behind Sam.

"AHA!" Sarah shouted.

They all jumped, and then gave her a withering look each their own.

"Sorry. I got it. Right here," she pointed.

Samantha moved beside her and read aloud, " 'Venestus. Canabilistic shape shifter.' Oh fan fucking tastic."

"What?" Dean asked, gesturing openly with his hands.

"Basically? It's a shape shifter that made up the whole town. The only thing that actually exists is this house, tells us why it's so modern. Anyway, it can make you think there's a village here, people moving about, shops, everything, but it's not actually here. Then it has the house appear, people get curious and walk right in. Then he...oh, ew...it eats them..."

"We walked into a giant Venus Fly Town?" Dean asked, making them look up.

"That's exactly what we walked into..." Sarah said.

"Okay, but Jason saw people too. In fact, he's the one that- Oh, crap, Jason,"

"What?" Samantha asked, without missing a beat she said, "Fuck..."

They all rose slowly, one by one, having realized that Jason is their main man. Or at least, the one walking around looking like him.

"When you called him, he must have looked at it as an all you can eat buffet," Sam said, "Jason Triplett would never have given us away to book fans...no offense."

"None taken," Samantha said, "Though I swear, we're not just book fans."

Sam shook his head, as if to say it was irrelevent in that moment, and raised his head to the ceiling, hands behind his neck, "Okay, so...we have to kill it. Where is it?"

"Probably waiting in the wings to pick us off one by one," Dean said, "I can't believe we walked right into it."

Sarah gave Samantha an amused look, then looked back, "What do we do?"

Dean's smirk crooked then, and Sarah blinked. Okay, that was mildly attractive...okay, highly attractive. The fact that he was a jerk kept her from smiling back.

"We do what we do best, sweetheart. We hunt it."


	5. Wrong

"_We do what we do best, sweetheart. We hunt it."_

Sarah had since pulled the gun from behind her and was weilding it before her. Honestly, and she wasn't about to be honest with the big dick walking in front of her, she had a small inkling how to use it. However, she hadn't used one in a good long while. Try years. Flicking out her tongue, she wet her lips and followed Dean down the hall. They were poking around in different rooms, searching for Jason, or the thing that looked like him.

"If I've learned anything from your books, and lets just say as low publicity as they were, I still learned quite a bit," Sarah was whispering, as she followed behind Dean. It was obvious he was growing annoyed with her, as muscles were clenching in his jaw. "For example, whenever you think you know what you're up against, you end up being wrong..."

"Those books aren't a tell all guide to my life, chica," Dean all but growled.

"No...but they're close to spot on..."

Dean turned on her then, his gun dropping to his side. A small line appeared on his brow, as it turned over his eyes. He was highly aggitated with this entire situation.

"Look, we'll help you if we can, but there is something you need to understand. Those books were written by a crazy freak psychic. We never confronted him because Sammy convinced me it wasn't a big deal. How'd you even find out we weren't just fictional, anyway?"

Sarah shrugged, "Cross checked the names in the FBI database. Which reminds me. You're supposed to be dead according to them...oh, and in hell according to the books."

"Yeah...that part was elaborated..."

"What do you mean? I thought he was psychic."

"He made up some things. Did you try looking up anyone besides Jason?"

Dean turned away from her and began walking again, his gun pointed before him. Sarah followed closely.

"Yes. I tried a few other names. They seemed to not exist."

"He's a writer. Some things were true, others he made up. Call it...artistic license."

"Well what about-" She paused, cut off. A soft drop on her forhead made her glance up. Her voice was more than a bit shakey when she spoke, "Dean..."

Dean followed her gaze. Above them both was the ceiling, clearly, but it was dripping with blood. Something had been hidden in the ceiling, and Dean reached his gun up toward it. Dripping wet skin fell to the floor before them. Sarah covered her nose, trying not to gag.

"I take it the thing shed it's skin..."

"Good guess," Dean bent forward and poked the skin with his gun.

"Oh ew, don't touch it..."

"If it's not Jason anymore, we have no idea who it could possibly be..."

Dean rose from his crouch, and took a deep breath. Turning from her, they turned around and moved to the room across the hall. They'd gone upstairs to look while Sam and Samantha checked below. Dean and Sarah entered the room. It was the room Samantha had nearly entered before. Rose print bed spread, and fancy lamps around the room. Sarah held the gun closer to her, the feeling of concern growing. Something felt off about the entire situation. When they entered further, she moved away from him to check the closet, and Dean stepped forward, bending to check beneath the bed. Sarah moved slowly to the closet and reached her hand as if in slow motion to the door. Carefully, she turned the handle and opened it. The sight that met her nearly made her scream. Quickly, she whirled and turned the gun on Dean.

"Get up," her voice shook again, fear in her eyes.

Dean looked at her, eyes wide and confusion in their depths, as he rose from looking under the bed, "What the hell are you doing?"

"You're not Dean," she said, keeping the weapon trained.

"I'm not? What the-" he paused, also noting Sarah's find. Without thought for the gun she had on him, he raced forward to the closet, bending to his knees. Reaching a hand forward, he placed it on the neck of the body in the closet. A pulse. Grabbing the shoulders, he shook gently.

"Sam! Sammy, wake up!"


	6. Caught

_Hey Guys and Gals,  
I have some followers here, I've noticed. Please be sure to review and let me know what you think. Also, if you have any ideas or things you'd like to see develop in the story, feel free to shoot them my way. Thanks! Enjoy!_

_~Slick Black Velvet_

Reaching a hand forward, he placed it on the neck of the body in the closet. A pulse. Grabbing the shoulders, he shook gently.

"_Sam! Sammy, wake up!"_

A chill went through the kitchen and Samantha frowned, tired and more than a little anxious. She watched the back of the man before her, the soft tan jacket moving with him. His collar made her eye twitch, the way it flipped in the back but not in the front. Call her crazy, but it drove her nuts when guys did that. Up or down, just freaking pick one. Holding her gun in front of her, but pointed to the side, she followed Sam through the kitchen and toward the cellar door. It was modern as well, soft granite counters, a sink void of dishes. There were a few old lamps on the walls, but the tall silver refrigerator showed her that they were just for show. What would a canibal need with a fridge? That thought made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"How do we even kill this thing when we find it?" She whispered to him.

"Silver. Silver bullets, silver knife. Anything true silver."

"The bullets in this gun are not silver, Sam..."

He turned slightly toward her and held his up, giving her a strange smirk, "Don't worry, mine are."

Nodding, she followed behind him. It crossed her mind that he wasn't as she'd expected. Having read the books as much as Sarah, she expected someone much like her sister. Kind, funny. So far the only thing that seemed to be accurate was that he was freakishly taller than her. Walking forward through the small kitchen, they passed the table and it's quaint chairs, and she glanced over to the window. Silence was not something she was fond of, and it seemed everything was echoing off the walls. It was too quiet. Barely, she heard Sarah and Dean looking around upstairs, their whispers bouncing down to her. The words couldn't be made out, but she knew they were talking. Shaking her head, she turned to Sam as they moved and broke the silence.

"So, is your brother always such a dick?"

"Typically. I don't think he intends to be."

"An accidental asshole? Wonderful," She sighed, glancing behind her briefly. Oddly, she had a bad feeling. A feeling that they weren't looking in the right place. "What if Dean and Sarah find it first? What if they get hurt?"

"They won't. Dean's formidable."

Formidable? Who talks like that, she thought. They reached the door and she looked up, a lot up, at him.

"I don't think we should have split up."

"Don't worry. You're with me, it's fine," Sam responded. 

The look she tossed him made him grin, "That's not what I meant. I don't need you to protect me. I'm pretty sure I can handle another body wearing someone's face."

"Is that right?" He paused, turning the handle on the cellar door and gestured for her to go first. She entered and moved down the stairs, hearing him behind her beginning his decent. She led the way, searching with her eyes, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, that is right."

She searched the place with her eyes. There was no evidence that anything actually was kept down here. She had expected some kind of stench, maybe ropes hanging, possibly even Jasons remains. But it was empty. Trying to keep her mind on an alternate subject so she wouldn't lose her cool, she spoke again.

"Are you as womanizing as your brother?"

Whirling around, she frowned deeper when the door closed and Sam locked it, a smile on his face.

"Sam's not. But then, Dean's not my brother."

Nearly stumbling over her own feet, she heard the shouting from upstairs. She glanced upward before pointing the gun at the imposter. The lips were turned in a sneer and she cursed herself that she hadn't known. Sam wasn't anything like she'd thought, and now she knew why.

"Did you kill him?"

The fake Sam smiled, a curve of his lips on one side, "I don't waste food."

Her nose wrinkled at that too, and she stared at him, trying not to vomit. He walked down the remainder of the stairs, stepping toward her. For each step forward, she took one back, keeping the gun trained on him. A chuckle left his chords, and he raised the gun in his own hand toward the ceiling. He waved it a bit in a taunting gesture, never taking his eyes from hers.

"Silver bullets, remember? That gun can't kill me."

"No," she responded, proud that her voice held firm, "But I'm sure it'd hurt like hell."

The damn thing moved fast, racing forward. Pulling the trigger, she missed. Having never missed in her life, she cursed, before dodging under his arms as he reached for her. Later she would reflect that she had no idea how she had thought so fast, but when she passed him, she threw a kick behind her, connecting solidly with his back. Hearing him fall, she didn't hesitate or turn around to look, instead racing for the stairs and the door.

"Sarah! Dean!"

Nearly catching her foot on the steps, she raced forward toward the door. She couldn't hear if he got up over the own pounding of blood in her ears. Having made it to the door, she began undoing the lock, pulling at the door, when she was grabbed from behind, and tossed down the stairs. Bumps and thuds sent pain through her skin, and that was the last she recalled before she lost conciousness.


	7. Two Down

_Having made it to the door, she began undoing the lock, pulling at the door, when she was grabbed from behind, and tossed down the stairs. Bumps and thuds sent pain through her skin, and that was the last she recalled before she lost conciousness. _

Sam opened his eyes, frowning up at a concerned Dean and a woman he didn't recognize. Shifting, he groaned as his back popped again, and he blinked at Dean.

"Jason. Jumped me from behind," he rubbed his neck with one hand as he rose, "I'm surprised he didn't kill me."

"He wouldn't have," Dean said, moving away, his brow descended slightly over his eyes, "He most likely planned on eating you."

"Wait, what? Gross."

Sarah frowned, "If Sam is here, that means Samantha is with the shape shifter..."

"It's a shape shifter?" Sam shook his head again, "Who are you?"

"Dude, so later," Dean said, waving a hand, "Short version, they're book fans."

Sarah gave him a long withering look, "Oh this is gonna be fun."

Tilting his head, Dean smirked at her. Forcing herself to roll her eyes, she turned away. His attractive features, and attitude were beginning to grow on her. She had to force the blush from her cheeks. Crossing her arms, she turned back.

"We need to find my sister."

"Why, where is she?" A few lines showed on Sam's forehead.

"With you."

"Oh crap..."

Dean led, Sam following behind, and Sarah not far from him. They each had their guns in their hands and raced out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Once they entered the main room again, they slowed.

"It's awfully quiet..." Sarah whispered, her concern growning.

They didn't answer her, moving through the kitchen, around the table. Dean turned to them for a brief moment before grabbing the handle on the basement door. It creaked as he opened it and they began to move toward it and down the steps. Silence met their ears as they descended. Sam pursed his lips together in worry, and Dean searched the area with his eyes. It was the sudden slam of a door that made both men whirl around. It had slammed right in front of Sarah, and she was pounding on it, unable to get it open. Dean raced back up, Sam hot on his heels.

"Sarah?! SARAH!"

"It just closed!" She responded from behind the door, "It won't open!"

"Move, I'm going to kick it in!"

Dean stepped back a bit, raising his leg, when the sounds from beyond the door made him freeze. There was a large thump, followed by another smaller one, and then silence.

"Sarah?" Dean cursed, Sam behind him and utterly confused. Raising his leg again, he kicked the door and it swung open. Sarah was gone. 

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Samantha winced as she came to, her head throbbing. Bumps and bruises littered her arms from where she'd tumbled down the stairs, and they were evident in the dim light. Having no idea where she was, she glanced about. Grey walls, a small sealed window let in very little light from outside. Scrunching her eyes shut again she tried to take her hand and rub at the pain in her temple when she realized she couldn't move them. They were held over her head, suspended from the ceiling.

"Origional," she muttered, and tested the ropes. They didn't even budge. Brain working as frantically as it was able in the pain, she tried to figure a way out of the situation she'd found herself in. Much to her chagrin, there wasn't one, and she'd have to face the fact that Dean had been right. Though the fact that it was her that had been captured pissed her way the hell off.

A sound of footsteps to her left made her gaze turn. Sam was entering, a figure draped over his shoulder. Recognizing the black curtain of curls, she knew he'd grabbed Sarah. Secretly, she wished he'd change into someone else, so she wouldn't keep thinking of him as Sam. Quietly she watched as he raised Sarah to another rope a few feet away from her and tied her much in the same way. Sarah moaned as she came to, the Venestus tightening the ropes about her wrists. The two girls met gazes, both sets of pale blue orbs shining concern to one another.

"Well," the Venestus said, "It's not often I get such a jackpot in one day. After I polished off your Jason friend, I was feeling rather full. So you girls can just sit tight until I get hungry again."

It winked and the girls matched looks of disgust in it's direction.

"Sam and Dean aren't stupid. They'll find us," Samantha managed to rasp out.

The Venestus was no longer looking at them, standing before a long table, sharpening a blade on a stone. He paused glancing up and staring at the wall a moment, before looking back down to his task.

"I'm counting on that. Though by the time they do find you, you'll be dead and packed away into little containers in my fridge."

Both girls faces lost color and they shared a look. The creature turned around and tilted it's head. Pointing with the large knife, he gestured back and forth between the two.

"Eenie, meenie, miney, mo..."

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Sam and Dean searched the house inside and out, both completely confused. It had seemed the girls and the monster had just vanished into thin air. Stepping outside again and onto the side walk, Sam ran a hand through his hair, groaning.

"They've got to be here somewhere," he said through gritted teeth.

"And it has to be close. There's no way it could have grabbed Sarah and managed to get her away in such a short amount of time."

As they circled the house, guns raised, Sam spoke, "How did they get into this mess, anyway? And what are we looking for?"

"You know," Dean began, "I really freaking hate shape shifters."

Sam nodded, "Thanks for that. Moving on..."

"They came looking for us. They haven't told me why yet, but they found us through the books."

"What?"

"Yeah, turns out Sarah has quite a bit of research talent. She found us in the FBI database. Wanted to know why we were alive. Why I wasn't in hell."

"I really hate that guy."

"Me too."

They snuck further around the house, guns still raised and glanced back and forth. Sam turned his back, walking backwards so this time, he wouldn't get snuck up on and knocked out. That was getting old fast.

"So what kind of Shape shifter is this?"

"Called a Venestus. The whole damn town was a freaking Venus Fly Trap. We're the damn flies."

"It was fake?"

"Yeah. Lures people into this house because it looks odd in the town. Then it eats them."

"Wait, what?" Sam's face matched the disgust of Samantha's earlier, "That's disgusting."

"You're not wrong..." Dean stopped, eyes wider, and glanced to Sam, "Tell me you heard that."

They both hushed, unmoving. The only sound the wind in the trees, fluttering the leaves at their feet. Tense and waiting, they stood, hoping and not hoping that the sound they heard was real. When it came again, Dean cursed violently.

It was the sound of a blood curdling scream.


	8. Piece by piece

_They both hushed, unmoving. The only sound the wind in the trees, fluttering the leaves at their feet. Tense and waiting, they stood, hoping and not hoping that the sound they heard was real. When it came again, Dean cursed violently._

It was the sound of a blood curdling scream.

Samantha watched, horrified as the creature that looked like Sam zeroed in on her sister with the blade. Samantha clenched her jaw tight, raising her chin in defiance. The girls remained tied, arms above their heads and though Sarah had begun to test the ropes, Samantha knew they were too tight for the girls to break. The Venestus' blade landed pointed at Sarah and her breathing accelerated in speed as he turned back to his table, sharpening the blade again. Glancing to Sarah, she noted the large goose egg on her forehead from where she'd been struck. He'd hurt her, and she'd be damned if she allowed him to slice her up while she watched. Samantha, never one for keeping her mouth shut, spoke up, blood heated that the damn monster had managed to hurt her sister.

"You son of a bitch. You're going to die. You know that, right? This won't end well for you," The words spit from her lips, in succession one right after the other.

The creature froze, and he turned slowly to glance at them, giving Sarah a long look. A cruel smirk pulled his lips as he approached her then. Fighting to keep the small victory from her face, she stared him down. His attention was on her now, and she wouldn't have to watch him harm Sarah. That, in and of itself, was enough. Enough until they were rescued. Taking careful deliberate steps, he moved before her, brushing her hair from her face. Sarah watched her cringe, and looked away, shutting her eyes tight. The Venestus lifted the blade to Samantha's collar bone and pressed it a bit, without cutting.

"This may smart a bit," he said, grinning.

Pain seared across her skin as he drew the blade down the pale flesh. Her teeth clenched tighter. She would not scream, though her toes clenched with the pain. Staring him plain in the eye, she swallowed against her suddenly dry throat as he pulled the blade up. Sarah had managed to turn her head to watch, horrified. Words wouldn't escape, and she wasn't frightened easily. But to watch her sister being mutilated, she knew now why Samantha had said what she'd said. Saving her, again, even if it was only for minutes.

"Nothing to say, now?" the creature chuckled, "Nothing at all?"

Placing the blade about a quarter of an inch away from the first cut, he sliced again, and a grunt escaped her chords as it burned against her. When two lines were shown just under the collar bone, he nicked a path between the two, connecting them at the bottom. It clicked in her brain, and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep the scream this time. Her face glanced to Sarah's, and they shared a look. Samantha's of fear and apology, and Sarah's of concern. Watching his hand move, Samantha saw him before he touched her, his fingers in a pinching grasp. He met with the flesh and began to pull it from her in a strip. This time, the scream tore through her lungs, as he pulled the skin from her body, ripping it at the end where he didn't cut. When it was pulled, he dangled it before her gaze before turning from her and placing it in a bowl.

"If it makes you feel better, you ladies can take turns," he chuckled.

"Fuck...you..." Samantha gasped out.

"Mantha, shut up," Sarah whispered, praying that for once her sister would just keep her outspoken mouth closed.

"Yes, _Mantha,_" The Venestus snickered, "Do shut up."

Turning to her again, he moved to her arm, raised over her head. Slicing a longer strip this time, from her inner elbow to just above her arm pit, he cut deeply and blood ran down her arm. Smiling, he leaned forward and licked up the trail. It took everything in both girls not to vomit. Following the line a bit across, he pinched the skin again and pulled, slower than the last. Another scream tore from her lungs and Sarah felt the tears drip from her eyes. Where the hell were Dean and Sam? Glancing over toward the cellar door, she thought. Maybe they would hear her.

"HELP!" she yelled as loud as she could, "Dean! Sam! HELP!"

The Venestus started at her outburst and turned to hiss at her. Dropping the flesh he'd peeled from Samantha into the bowl, he gripped the knife tightly. Sarah continued to yell and he moved quickly to her, raising a hand and slamming the back of it against the side of her face. Sarah's head whipped to the side, and the yelling ceased. She knew that would bruise, it fell as if her entire head was going to explode with that hit. Black curls covering her face, she tossed them back a bit as she turned to look at him. Spots of silver clouded her vision.

"You dickless piece of shit!" Samantha rasped at him.

It turned back to her, smiling, before turning back to Sarah. He laughed outright before stepping back.

"I get it. You're close. That's cute," He placed the blade softly on Sarah's cheek, "But close doesn't fill my belly."

A slam of the cellar door pulled all of their eyes to it.

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Dean and Sam began to race to where they thought they'd heard the noise from, leaves crunching under their feet. Their eyes dashed back and forth and Dean cursed.

"Where the hell did he take them?"

Sam felt the air blowing in and out of his lungs and he felt panicked. Something was different this time. It wasn't just saving another life, it wasn't just another job. It felt different, important. He turned to his brother as they searched, not knowing how close they were.

"This isn't another job, Dean."

Dean nodded, his eyes hard, "I know. I don't know how, but I know."

Their movements ceased and they circled each other, Dean cursing violently. They couldn't have gone this far. The Venestus couldn't have carried Sarah off this far, in such a short amount of time. Both men turned back, began walking back to where they'd first heard the screaming.

"HELP! Dean! Sam! HELP!"

They stopped only for a moment, before turning sharply to the right. They raced toward the sound, and kept moving. She continued to yell and Dean muttered, "Come on Sarah. Tell us where you are." Moving as fast as they were able, they rushed over leaves and branches, somehow not tripping. When the yelling abruptly stopped, so did they. So close, they knew they were practically on top of them. Dean looked down, as Sam scanned the area with his eyes. Brushing the leaves aside with a boot, Dean let a breath of relief escape from the expanse of his chest.

"Got it, Sammy."

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The guys jumped into the hole and aimed their weapons at the shifter. Dean could only see Sarah, slightly to the left of the Venestus. A sick purple had blossomed on her face, and a large bump marred her forehead. Otherwise, she was unharmed. The Venestus stood before Samantha, and all he and Sam could see was the ropes holding her in place. It tilted it's head at them, and Sam felt his nose twitch in disgust at the being that looked like him. The only difference was the creature had blood circling around his lips.

"Gentlemen. Come to join the party?"

Dean aimed his gun higher, pointing it at the creatures head, "Came to end it."

The pound of a gun shut filled the room and the bullet imbeded in the fake Sam's forehead. It snapped back before falling to the ground. Dean went with the motions and moved to Sarah, reaching above her to work the ties.

"Are you alright?"

"What took so long?" she whispered.

Her eyes on his face, she felt the feeling bloom in her chest again. Okay, definitely chemistry. Attraction even, and she swallowed against it. This was so not the time. Dean felt the same however and as the ties were released, he caught her in his arms, draping her right arm over his shoulders. He cradled her back and, oddly out of character for him, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Sorry. I'll be faster next time."

"That's encouraging," Sarah replied sarcastically.

Sam moved to Samantha, a sound of horror escaping his throat. The girl dangled from the ropes, streaks of blood dripping down her arms and over her shirt in both places of the cuts. He could see nothing but pools of blood where her skin had been pulled from her body. Somehow, though, she was concious. Air rushing from her lungs, she spoke to him.

"Nice to meet the real you, Sam," she managed to whisper.

"Shh," he said, "This is bad, let me get you down."

A sound behind him made him stop. The Venestus had risen and shoved Sam out of the way and to the ground. Dean and Sarah stopped, eyes wide as the creature reached into his forhead and pulled the bullet free. The silver bullet that was supposed to kill him.

"How..." Dean managed.

"You kiddos don't do your research, do you? It takes a whole lot more than a silver bullet to kill this shifter."

It raised a hand to the doors and they slammed shut, sealing them all in. 

Sam moved first, rising from the floor and charging the creature, slamming him into the table. It toppled over, the both of them with it, one over the other. Dean turned, setting Sarah onto the ground leaning her against a beam. This done, he turned to the creature and through a fist into it's face. Sarah didn't stay on the ground, though. Yes, she was exhausted and her muscles sore in places she didn't know existed, but she needed to get her sister down. Stepping to Samantha, she raised her hands to the ropes and began to untie her. Samantha forced a smile.

"Dick. This was my favorite shirt."

Sarah couldn't help the tears that clouded her eyes, "I'll buy you another one."

"I'll be fine, Sarah," she managed, though it hurt to speak. It hurt everywhere, but as far as she was concerned, it was better her than the girl before her.

"I know," Sarah responded, helping Samantha down. She set her on the floor and they both leaned against another post as the grapple before them continued. They could do nothing to help.

The Venestus surged to his feet, twisting his frame to avoid a punch from Dean, only to receive one in the stomach from Sam. He doubled over before rising and raising his hands, palms open, sending both of the men flying. They crashed beside the girls before rising again.

"Did you honestly think that a simple bullet would be my end? I can wave my hand and make an entire town, with people. Did you think I was powerless?!"

It stopped. Frozen. Not even a muscle in it's face twitched. Sam and Dean exchanged a look of complete confusion before looking at the creature again. Sarah and Samantha's eyes were glued to it, until horror began to bloom. The radio on the bench to their left turned itself on and began to change stations. The high pitched squeal they had been running from began to make itself known, shattering the lights above their heads. The screech only grew louder and all four covered their ears as the Venestus collapsed into flame, screaming in agony. Just like that, it was gone, destroyed. Samantha and Sarah knew, though, that the danger wasn't over. Whatever they'd been running from hadn't gone away.

It had found them.


	9. Learning

_The screech only grew louder and all four covered their ears as the Venestus collapsed into flame, screaming in agony. Just like that, it was gone, destroyed. Samantha and Sarah knew, though, that the danger wasn't over. Whatever they'd been running from hadn't gone away._

_It had found them._

The light was bright and each of them shielded their eyes in their own ways. Dean moved quickly to Sarah, wrapping his arms about her to hide her face in his shoulder while covering his own gaze with his arm. Ignoring the blood, Sam pulled Mantha to him and pulled her head down to his chest, squeezing his own eyes shut. Both of the girls hearts were pounding in their chests. They didn't have time to tell the guys why they had sought them out, but it was so way too late for that now. The lights above them exploded in sparks, the glasses on the bench to their left shattering into pieces. When the radio died again and the room calmed, they each managed to look.

A woman. A gown danced over her skin in shimmering gold and green, pinching at her arms in a bubble of fabric. The dress swooped in a high neck, dipping low over her back to reveal the flesh there. It reached her knees before dancing away in the breeze in another bunch of fabric. She herself was beautiful. Pale skin of alabaster surrounded wide and innocent emerald eyes. Soft brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in a slight wave. They stared at one another, and Samantha and Sarah both matched expressions of confusion. This? This is what had been chasing, hounding them? Dean rose first, irritated at being completely weaponless. Sarah accepted his hand and they both moved to block Sam and a still highly injured Mantha with their bodies. Sarah crossed her arms.

"Thanks for...you know...that," Dean said, breaking the silence, and gesturing to the area that the Venestus had been standing only moments before.

"He was of no concern," The woman responded with a tilt of her head, a small smile on her lips.

"You're what's been chasing us? Hounding us since Maine?" Sarah spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Yes. I apologize for frightening you," she curved her head with the words, as if to show actual remorse.

"You...apologize?" Samantha rasped from her place on the ground, "For what? For hounding us state after state, or for making us think we were going to...to die."

"Shh..." Sam shushed her.

"Don't you shush me," She gestured weakly with her head, uncaring what they were dealing with in her stubborn head, "This bitch chased us from state to state. And she's...sorry?"

"I am."

Deans brow descended over his eyes. It was unusual for him to be so lost in what they were dealing with. He and Sammy had been hunting a long time. This figure...she was new. 

"So, um...who are you exactly? Or should I ask what?"

"I am Nora. An angel of the Lord."

They all paused, brows raised. Dean's scoff broke the silence.

"Yeah, okay."

"You do not believe me?"

"No. No I don't. At all. Look, I'm grateful for the bail out there," he gestured again, stepping closer to Sarah and placing her a bit behind him, "But you're trying to tell me you're an angel? There's no such thing."

"Dean...ye of little faith," her voice was soft and she moved slightly closer, her arms at her sides, "I was not attempting to chase the women. Merely...coerce them in the positive direction."

"And what direction is that, exactly?" Sarah asked.

"To bring the four of you together."

Sam fought the urge to rise, oddly feeling protective over the girl he'd just met only moments before. Perhaps it was the injuries, but he only turned his head a bit before he spoke.

"Together for what?"

"In due time. For now, you need only stick together. Hunt, as destiny has paved for you to do. Teach them, for they were not raised in the same manner."

"Teach us what? To hunt? We have jobs, lives back home. We can't just drop everything we have to go galivanting around the country with two men we just met," Sarah, being logical, threw her hands in the air, "Besides, if this damn thing was any way to show, we're only going to get ourselves killed."

"That is not an option," Nora spoke again, "The sooner you are taught, the better."

"Okay, now just wait one freaking minute, Tinkerbell. Sam and I can take the girls home, but lugging around more people is just going to create more trouble."

"Nora. You have no choice in this matter, Dean and Sam Winchester. Your destinies are entwined. If it had not happened now, it would have happened later. Time...events, forced our hands."

"Our who?" Sam spoke up then, "There's more than just you?"

"There are many Angels. My lover and I were assigned to the four of you."

"Your...wait. Your 'lover'?"  
"It had to be done sooner. There is little time to argue this," she remained calm, talking to them as if they were children, "You must teach them how to defend themselves, or all will be lost."

"All what?" Sarah asked.

The Angel was gone.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Dean said turning to face the others.

"Worry about this later," Sam said, scooping his arms under Samantha's legs. Lifting her with ease, he moved to them, "We need to get out of here. Get patched up."

Samantha frowned at him, "I can walk."

"Yup."

Too tired to argue it, she leaned against him. Sarah gave Dean a look, noting he wanted to talk about what had just happened right that second, but noting she looked worse for wear as well, he brushed it aside. Lips curving in a smirk, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Can you walk?" he asked, teasing.

Sarah, though she felt a soft tingle of warmth in her shoulder, brushed his hand off. Shooting him a 'Oh, please' look, she shook her head, "I can manage."

Chuckling, he followed his brother as they all moved to the cellar door.

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"Out of the question," Samantha rasped.

They were in the vehicle now and Samantha was furious that they'd left her own behind for Dean's. Her car was important, and leaving Flint behind had royally pissed her off. Add in the pain, and she did not to well with pain, she was ready to kill something. Sarah in the front beside Dean had mentioned a hospital, and that put her over the edge.

Dean glanced at her in the rearview, "Those wounds aren't going to heal themselves."

"You do understand the human body, right?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Oh this is gonna be just so fun."

Sam, trying to calm the situation, turned to her, "They can get you the meds you need, plus stitches."

"No. I've done my own first aide before, I can do it again."

"You can't exactly stitch yourself up, Samantha," Dean all but growled.

"Why not? You did."

"Because one of your damn cuts is on your arm, what are you gonna do, one hand it?"

"I don't know. I've never tried it, one handing. What's it like, Dean?"

"Okay!" Sarah raised her hands, "That's enough."

"I'll do it," Sam said, shaking his head.

"If we're going to learn how to do what you do, we have to take the bad with the good, Sam," she managed again. Her voice was raspy and she was absolutely exhausted.

"That hasn't been decided yet," Dean piped up.

"Dude. I'm so sick of hearing your voice," Samantha groaned, resting her head against the back of the seat.

"Suck it up, buttercup," Dean reached forward to switch on the radio. Highway to Hell came through and Samantha couldn't fight the smirk as both Sam and Sarah matched groans of irritation.

"Turn it down," Sam and Sarah said simultaneously.

"Turn it up," Mantha grinned.

Sarah shot her a look, though she could see the amusement twinkling in her eyes, before she looked back to the front again.

The drive took about an hour, since the fake town had completely vanished, they had no idea which direction to head in. When they finally reached something, they pulled into the first motel they could find. Dean parked the car and Sarah got out, walking into the lobby with him.

"James and Marie Patterson," he smiled to the clerk, handing him a credit card. Sure enough, the name on the card read 'James Patterson.' Sarah said nothing, smiling at the clerk.

"Newlyweds?" The man asked.

Dean took her hand in his own and she fought the urge to pull it away. Yes, he was attractive. Okay, ridiculously attractive. She found herself having a hard time at this point saying anything without collapsing into a quivering heap on the floor. Knowing, however, his track record, she was managing to keep her will power in check.

"That's right," Dean lied smoothly.

The clerk grinned, "Congratulations. Room one twelve," he handed Dean the key, and they made their way back to the car.  
Once they were out of ear shot, Sarah snatched her hand from his.

"Newlyweds?"

Dean laughed, "Welcome to the wonderful world of magic, sweetheart."

Glaring at him, she moved with him to the trunk to get her and her sisters belongings. Dean tossed the key to Sam as he got out, and moved to the door to open it. Placing the key in his pocket, he moved to the side of the car where Mantha slept, and lifted her easily into his arms again. Carrying her inside, he sat her on the bed, before moving back outside to get the first aide pack they carried. Nodding, he retreated back into the motel room.

Samantha groaned as Sam sat on the bed, opening the case.

"Is your brother always such a dick?"

"Yes. Are you always so stubborn?"

She raised her uninjured arm to her hair, showing the fiery locks, "Yes."

A soft grunt of a laugh escaped him before he shook his head.

"Sorry we didn't meet on better terms," he said, pulling a bottle of alcohol from the side table. He poured it over the wound on her arm first and she winced before turning her head away. She was not about to watch him stitch her up.

"Yeah. Nice to meet you, let me perform surgery on your cut from a shape shifter."

He chuckled again, pulling the curved stitching needle from it's protective covering. He'd done this on himself a million times. He'd done it to Dean more than that, but he'd never had to do it on a girl before. Sure, he'd grown in the last several years, but he still wasn't the 'this is my rifle, this is my gun' kind of man his brother was. A grimace on his face, he began to sew the cut on her arm, poking the needle into her flesh.

"Hand me that bottle, please?"

He handed it to her without hesitation. She downed a swig, and he continued his surgery on her arm.

"So you came looking for us because of the books?"

"Yeah. Sis said she cross checked it-"

"In the FBI database, yeah, Dean told me."

An awkward silence passed and she looked at him as he finished up the cut on her arm.

"You guys got pain meds?"

"Yeah, let me do the other cut first."  
Samantha's face flamed with color.

"I can do that one."

Sam's face matched hers for color for a second before he smiled, "How?"

Mantha glanced down to her arm, "Good point..."

Adjusting her position, she moved closer so he could sew up the cut on her chest. It didn't take long either but it hurt like a bitch. Sweat beaded on her brow and she actually felt faint. Being weak was not something she enjoyed. In fact, she loathed it. When he finished, though, he didn't move away. Hazel orbs met her cool blue ones. Later, she wouldn't be able to remember who started it; who moved first. But in seconds, their lips had met, and her uninjured hand slipped into his hair. Sam's arms wrapped around her torso and he pulled her close. She could feel the very small amount of stubble on his chin run against the soft flesh of her own face, and the heat that went to her head surprised her. Never, in her life, had she been kissed like this. Like she never wanted to be kissed by anyone else again.

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Dean lifted the trunk, propping it open with the shotgun, like always.

"That's safe," Sarah grinned.

"Okay look," Dean turned to her, "I'm not any happier about this then you are, but like it or not, princes, we're stuck with eachother for the time being. So I suggest, you get the hell used to it and stop acting like a prima donna."

"I'm stuck up because I think you're an ass? So be it," Sarah felt her hands ball into fists. So, this was going to be hashed out now, then. "You can wink and smirk and make all the stupidest possible pickup lines you want. The fact of the matter is, your charms will not, do not, have any affect on me. So I suggest YOU stop being a dick and focus on one thing and one thing only. Whatever job comes next."

Dean had been packing a bag as she ranted at him, and his lips curved into that smirk again. Making sure he didn't smash her fingers in the door, he shut the trunk and dropped the pack to the floor. Stepping as if he were going to move around her, he stood before her and stopped. Turning, he placed his hands on each side of the trunk, effectivly caging her in. This woman was different. Others, they had fallen completely at his feet, but her, she resisted his every move. He loved the opposite sex, sure, but there was something different about her. Her words, though, challenged his ego. The need to prove her wrong surged to the surface. The way her eyes widened made him grin further. Dipping forward, he moved his face to the curve of her neck and his hot breath wafted over the curve of her ear, and he raised his hand to tuck her curls behind it.

"What's that saying? The one about protesting too much?"

Sarah's eyes widened at the sudden change. Okay, that was unexpected. The simple touch set fire to her skin, which only spurned her heart beat into pounding. Wetting her lips, she found that her throat was suddenly bone dry. Still, she swallowed hard to clear it before speaking.

"You're an egomaniac," she whispered.

"And you're a liar if you tell me that this," he ran the rough stubble of his face over her neck, placing a small kiss there. She almost melted right then and there. "Doesn't affect you."

"Back off, Dean," she whispered. Though that was completely the opposite of what she wanted, logic was somehow still in her head.

Dean did so, rising a bit to look in her eyes. She was still caged within his arms, her hands resting on his forearms. They stood like that long enough for Sarah to want to squirm under his gaze before he moved away and picked up the pack. Throwing it over his shoulder, he moved past her to walk inside. Placing his hand on the handle, he turned to look at her.

"You can deny that chemistry all you like, Sarah. But one way or another, we're going to end up sleeping together. Best get that fact straight right now."

"Keep dreaming, Winchester," she responded, though the words weren't backed with any conviction and her face was still on fire.

He tilted his head, that damn smirk on his lips again, "Always do," and he went inside.

Sarah slumped her frame against the trunk of the car and let out a shakey breath. She'd had men before, she was no shy virgin, but this...No, he. Was like nothing she'd ever experienced. She didn't know what was more daunting. The fact that he thought they'd eventually have sex, or the fact that she knew he was probably right.

_**Hope you enjoyed that, followers. Keep reading! It's only gonna get better. Please remember to review! ^.^ **_

_**Slick Black Velvet**_


	10. Changed

There had been others. Mantha was no doe eyed virgin being kissed for the first time. There'd been idiots and good guys, even some bad guys. Not to say she'd gotten around, because most had been first, some even second, base. Not one to part her legs, she hadn't really gotten far save for one or two men. They were meager thoughts now. This. Whether it was him or her, radiated so much more than a simple kiss. Her hand gripped tight to his hair slid to his shoulder to grip the collar of his jacket. The skin of her body was tingling with it, with some kind of power she didn't understand.

As they embraced, she felt an oddly painful sharp shock to her lips. To his. They snapped back, simultaneously, and stared at one another. They were both heaving air from their lungs, and her pale blue hues met his hazel ones. Confusion matched their features.

"The hell..." she whispered, "Was that?"

Something shocked, as her vision began to wane. The sight before her, Sammy staring at her in confusion, dimmed and another took it's place. Back and forth, she snapped from reality to something else entirely and she reached her uninjured arm to her head.

"What...?" she breathed before a mind numbing pain scorched behind her eyes. Dimly, she heard a door open, but she couldn't focus. It was as if someone had just beamed her skull with a two by four, from the inside. Her back arched with the pain, and panicked voices met her ears, but she wasn't there.

Dark hair, black eyes. A figure stood in a lone kitchen of granite counters and white linolium floors. Too clean, too perfect. Adorned with a long grey jacket, with large buttons, he stood in front of his refrigerator, and various papers littered the surface. A poster for a musical, "The King and I" Shawnee Metropolitan Theatre. Bloofield, Indiana. The man stared at a photograph in his hands. It was a picture of a woman holding her daughter, embracing, laughing. A cruel smirk marred his lips and he threw the photograph to the ground, the ornate frame snapping and the glass shattering in different directions. Then, as if sensing someone watching, he turned, glanced to her. The smirk grew and he slowly raised a black gloved hand, long finger extended over his lips. Evil. It radiated from him, and though his skin was far from perfect, marred with small tears on his face, he smiled at her. Slowly, he approached her, and a hand moved over her eyes. Another hand grasped at her arm, and an intense burn flooded her body. A scream of pain and terror met her ears, and she snapped back to reality.

Gasping, she blinked rapidly and recognized the scream was her own. Sam held her on the ground beside the bed. Her arm throbbed, and she felt contorted with the pain. Sarah was at her other side, gripping her hand in her own, her face horrified. Dean stood just at her feet and they were all staring. It took her a moment to catch up, and her head still pounded. What just happened? The pain in her brain was dulling to a migraine, but she hurt. Looking down at her arm, she noted that just above the stitched cut was a indented burn, a brand. A deep triangle marred the skin there, on the inside of her bicep. In the inside of the triangle, what looked like...an eye. It was moderately disfigured because of the intensity of the flesh, still sizzling, but it was there just the same. They all stared at it now, shocked. Turning, she shoved, as best as she was able, Sam away from her. Leaning against the side of the bed as he lost his balance and fell to his ass, she glared at him.

"What. The fuck. Did you just do to me?!"

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Sarah was sitting on the chair by the window, glancing outside every few moments. When she turned back to the room again, she noted Dean was staring at her as he moved. This was so not the time, but she felt her face flush with color. Shaking her head, she turned back to the others. Mantha was laying on the bed, a cool washcloth over her eyes, and Sarah knew she was trying to quell the headache behind her lids. Sam sat on the other bed, his head in his hands, and they were bickering.

"Well you obviously did something, because whatever the fuck that was? That has never happened to me. Ever."

Sam grew aggitated, Sarah could see it in his eyes and in the way he clenched his jaw. Dean was pacing back and forth before foot of the two beds, clearly freaked, and not pleased that he had no idea what just happened. None of them did and the air was thick with tension.

"You mean when we kissed? You've never been kissed before?"

Dean and Sarah shared a look of surprise before she spoke to Sam, "You kissed her?" Mantha groaned in aggitation.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him to his feet. Body nearly shaking with frustration, he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number, leaving the room, and dragging Sam with him. When the door slammed, Sarah rose and moved to the bed beside her sister.

"So...you kissed him?"

"Didn't he just say that?"

"Oh, don't you get snippy with me," Sarah muttered before grabbing her sisters arm to stare at the mark again. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," Mantha answered, gesturing with her other arm. "We were kissing, which by the way was amazing, and then he shocked me. Like...his lips did. And I'm only saying this once, so you can go ahead and explain it to the Hardy Boys. We pulled away, because we both felt that, and were really confused," she pulled the cloth from her eyes and moved to sit up a bit, leaning against the head board. "And then...I wasn't here. I was...somewhere else." Sarah watched her eyes squint as she tried to remember what she'd seen, "Some guy standing in the middle of a really clean kitchen. He was looking at a picture and then he threw it on the floor. He walked to me, covered my eyes, touched my arm and that was it. I snapped out of it."

"So wait...like a vision?"

"Oh fuck, Sarah, I don't know. We've been friends for a long time, have I ever had a vision? Like...ever?!"

Sarah sighed and she glanced to the door where the guys had disappeared, and looked back to her, "No...but didn't the books say Sam was psychic?"

"Yeah...so?"

"I don't know. It's just weird that he would be and then you have a vision after kissing him."

"What...like he shared that? Oh fucking great. That's awesome."

Wincing as she did so, she rose from the bed and moved to the table. Grabbing a glass and the large bottle of whiskey, she poured half a glass and tipped it back. Sighing with the burn, she did it a second time. Shaking her head, she all but slammed the glass down.

"So what, we're supposed to go to where this guy was? Fuck that, Sarah. That shit hurt."

"Obviously."

Silence descended and they both left one another to their thoughts. Sarah was utterly confused and she rose to the laptop that Sam had left there. Sitting, she pulled the chair close to the table and opened the top. Opening the browser, she moved to the search bar and typed. Samantha watched her fingers fly over the keys but she didn't bother asking what she was doing. They had almost the same brain, so she already knew. Moving to her small bag, she removed new clothes from it, holding them tight in her hands. Staring at them for a moment, she took in a deep breath and then blew it out in one stream of air.  
"I'm going to shower," she spoke, turning and moving to the small motel bathroom.

" 'Kay," Sarah responded, without looking up.

Samantha moved into the bathroom, removing her bloodied shirt from her skin and tossing it to the trash. Fuck housekeeping, she thought. They'd have something to gossip about now. Nearly growling, she peeled her pants and the rest of her clothing from her and turned on the shower, stepping under the blasting heat. Heaven. True heaven. Losing herself in the ritual of cleaning herself, she shut her mind off completely, ignoring everything that was going on around them.

Fingers continued to fly over the keyboard in steady succession. It was clear Sarah knew how to type, how to research, and her mind was going a mile a minute. Shaking her head periodically, she exed out of the browser to open another and start again. Searching everything, she finally came up with something. She'd typed in 'Identifying Marks AND Psychic AND Mythology.' The brand like burn on Mantha's arm came into focus in digital picture form. Sarah ran a hand over her face as she leaned back, "Crap..."

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Sam pulled himself from Deans grasp, with a rough shrug of an annoyed shoulder. Deans face was focused on the conversation he was having, but Sam only crossed his arms and leaned against the building. His mind was on what had happened. Is that what he looked like when he'd had visions in the past? Yellow eyes was dead, and everything should have been over, so he hadn't had a vision since. That didn't mean he didn't remember how they felt. Like your skull was going to split open. Even so, he'd never had one that had manifested itself physically.

"Yeah, it's a pain in the ass, I get that, Bobby," Dean growled into the phone, "But we're dealing with so much more than a typical hunt here. We've got Angels up our ass."

Bobby must have said something that pissed Dean off, because he threw his head back and stared at the sky, "Dammit, Bobby, just tell me if you've ever heard of a...psychic," he said the word with obvious distaste and caught a pissed glance from Sam, "Passing it on to someone else."

Dean groaned then, shaking his head and placing his hand on his brow, "No, no it's fine. Just keep looking."

Hanging up the phone, he turned to Sam, "He's got zilch. Nothing. What exactly happened in there?!"

"I don't know, Dean!" Sam shrugged away from the wall and paced to the car, running a hand threw his hair, "We kissed."

"And then she went all you a year ago?"

"No...it was...I don't even know how to explain this. I was sewing her up, everything was great, there was chemistry. Then, our lips shocked. Kind of like a static shock, only stronger. It actually hurt. I pulled back, so did she and then boom. Her eyes rolled back and she was gone. You saw the rest."

"It doesn't make any sense though, your...visions, never affected your body. Not in a 'attacked in the vision' way. Can you explain that?"

Sam turned to Dean, opened his mouth prepared to answer. He had absolutely no clue. But the answer was taken from him.

"I can."

Both men turned, on the offensive, already annoyed. Another figure they'd yet to meet, and Dean pulled his gun from it's place to hold it at his side. The figure was not overly tall, but his eyes were shadowed. In a brooding sort of way. A soft shadow of beard danced over a cleft chin, rising to the sides of his strong face, meeting the dark brown tossled hair on his head. He wore a collared and tailored shirt, and black slacks, beneath a long tan open trench coat. A tie was at his throat, but it was loose and backwards. The man was staring at them, showing very little emotion.

"And who the hell are you?" Dean said, stepping forward a bit.

"My name is Castiel. I'm the one who pulled you from Hell."

Deans eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, his brows going over his eyes.

"You're...what?"

"I apologize for not coming forward sooner, but I needed to be sure the four of you were together. Where are the girls?"

"Inside," Sam spoke, "And you're not going near them until you tell us who you are."

"You are protective of them already. This is good."

"Castiel, huh? Let me guess, you're another fucking angel."

"Angels do not...fuck, as you say. What we do is far more than that, but I digress. Yes, I am an Angel. I am Nora's fated."

"Joy," Sam rasped, "You wanna give us more answers than she did? Because the ring around the rosey is getting on our nerves."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Why are we suddenly carting girls around? What 'Destiny' are we a part of? Why did you pull me from hell in the first place? And for the love of God, keep your voice down," his eyes darted to the door.

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten. You lied to them."

"I didn't tell them I was in hell if that's what you mean."

"It is. Why?"

"Because it's none of their business."

"You are their business. Sam is their business. Your lives are linked now."

"HOW?!" Sam hissed.

"Follow Nora's instructions. Train them. Sam, you will need to help Samantha with the visions. Dean, you will need to watch over Sarah. These girls are wholly unprepared for what is coming," he paused, as if reflecting, "That is our error. We should have interfered sooner. We did not expect their early lives to not follow pattern."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The girls were supposed to have had the same upbringing the two of you had. But...it was thwarted. Demons can be...resiliant."

"You're saying demons screwed up their lives?"

"Yes. They were unaware of that. They still are. Keep this from them."

"What am I supposed to be protecting Sarah from?" Dean spoke, utterly confused and frustrated.

"Everything. And they both need protection. In due time, answers will reveal themselves."

"We aren't going to baby sit full grown adults!"

"You are. It is destiny."

"If you say that one more time..."

Sam shook his head, taking another step forward, "How did she get it? How is Mantha psychic now?"

"You transferred it. As you were meant to do."

"Wait...I gave it to her?"

"Yes. It was destined."

"Why?"

But Castiel was gone.

_**Hope you enjoyed it. I'm typing as fast as I can. XD I hope to write another chapter tonight. If not tonight, tomorrow. Just wait, oh the surprises I have! :)**_

Slick Black Velvet


	11. Together

_Sam shook his head, taking another step forward, "How did she get it? How is Mantha psychic now?"_

"You transferred it. As you were meant to do."

"Wait...I gave it to her?"

"Yes. It was destined."

"Why?"

But Castiel was gone.

Dean replaced the gun in the waistband of his pants, the frown on his face etched into his brow. He glanced to Sam, tilting his head and released a half growl, half sigh.

"Oh, they're going to love this," he said, crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest.

"I can't even begin to think of how to 'Train' them. We've been doing this our whole lives, Dean. There's no way those women can learn how to be hunters in however long we have."

"Not to mention we don't know what we're protecting them from. And last time I checked, I wasn't a freaking baby sitter."

Sam placed his palms on the hood of the car, brooding, rattled by the revelation. Shaking his head, he turned back to the door and opened it, Dean following behind him to enter back into the hotel room. Sarah was sitting in the chair, laptop open before her on the table. Her hand was on her brow, and she was muttering to herself. Sam glanced around for Mantha and heard the blast from the shower.

"She okay?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"No," Sarah muttered, pulling her hand from her eyes to look at him, "She's royally screwed."

"What?" Dean frowned.

Sarah stood, shaking her head, and moved to the bed, gesturing to the computer with a hand, "See for yourself."

Dean moved to the computer, Sam behind him. Taking a seat, Dean focused his eyes on the photo and the description, while Sam read over his shoulder. They read quietly for a long moment before looking to Sarah almost simultaneously.

"Crap," Sam muttered.

"I don't—I can't...I have no words with what we're dealing with right now," Dean spoke then, "Demons, shifters, monsters. That we can handle. Angels, though, are a completely new thing to us..."

Sarah hesitated on voicing her thoughts, sitting on the bed and crossing her legs. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Sam and stared hard at him. Perceptive, that was one of Sarah's best traits. Almost seeing through people, how they were feeling, and at the moment, when they were hiding something. It was clear to her that her and Mantha hadn't been told the whole truth about something. Having no idea what it was though, she was at an empass. The way Sam met her gaze with unwavering instensity, when his eyes said he wanted to look away, was enough for her.

"You two are hiding something," she said softly.

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked.

"Here's what I know. You two shared a moment, however brief it was. And now, my sister isn't human. That ticks me off," she looked at them both, a long glare seperated by a blink. "Samantha may be the confrontational one, but if you think we're going to continue with you one more step without knowing what's going on, you've got another thing coming."

Sam frowned, "We know as much as you do."

"See..." Sarah said, tilting her head, "I'm not sure that's completely true either. Something here isn't adding up."

Dean cast a glance to Sam before rising, "You can't just trust that we know what we're doing?"

"No."

Samantha had entered from the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel. She'd changed into a yellow blouse, lace like fringe clinging at her chest and waist. Jeans draped over her thighs and calfs and she had completey washed away all traces of blood. Her skin was red at her neck and in her cheeks from the heat of the water and Sam found his gaze lingering far too long. After a moment, he turned away. She was clean now, and that had to feel better. The cuts, though, and the brand stuck out against her pale flesh even as she glanced to the men. They hadn't even heard the door open. Dean shut the computer slowly as her gaze was on Sam.

"No we don't have to trust jack shit. And quite frankly, I'm so beyond done. As soon as morning hits, you're taking us back to my car, and we're out of here."

"We have to follow your vi-" Sam began, but she inturrupted him, tossing the towel to the floor.

"We don't have to follow shit! You wanna go, fine. I'll give you the god damned coordinates," she gestured with her arms to the computer. "But Sarah and I are going our seperate ways and getting the relaxing vacation we asked for when we left our shitty jobs!"

"You can't just leave. This isn't finished," Dean spoke then, and Samantha whirled on him. Sarah rose, raising a hand toward her to stop her. A sharp look from her sister made her lower the hand. It had been a long time since she'd seen her this angry. There was no stopping this tirade and she knew it. Best to let her vent and get it out now, or she'd hold it in and they'd all suffer for it later.

"This is SO finished, you half witted son of a bitch! We didn't ask to be hounded across the earth. We didn't ask to be shoved with the two of you!" She approached him and jabbed a finger into his chest. It would have been comical to him if her eyes hadn't been full of so much rage. "We didn't asked to be beated and scarred, weakened. And I sure as fuck didn't ask for whatever the hell this is!" She waved the branded arm in the air. Shoving Dean away, she moved to the door and opened it. Without looking back, she spoke through clenched teeth, "Angels be damned. We're not a part of this. We make our own destiny." And she slammed the door behind her.

Sarah moved to follow and Dean reached a hand out to stop her. A hesitation, just a second as she relished the feel of his hand on her, before she shrugged from his grip, "I'm going after her."

"Let Sammy go."

Her brows raised, "How about no."

"Seriously, Sarah. Let him go after her."

Sam was already out of the door before Sarah had a chance to speak. Secretely she blamed Dean for her part in this. That she hadn't been there to stop it from happening. Crossing her arms over her chest, she side stepped him and moved to the window to look out. She watched Sam approach her sister and Mantha dutifully ignore him. Shaking her head, smirking, she turned back to Dean.

"She's right, you know. As soon as morning hits, we're out of here."

"I can't let you do that."

A half laugh escaped her, "You can't stop us."

"Watch me."

Her eyes narrowed on him and she took a step forward.

"If you think you can keep us with the two of you against our will, you've got another thing coming."

"This is so much bigger than the four of us. We have to stick together."

"You don't even believe in angels, Dean. Now suddenly you're willing to follow one?"

"Two..."

"Excuse me?"

He shifted, clearly not liking where the conversation was heading, and rubbed his neck.

"Two angels. Another came forward when Sam and I were outside."

"And said what?"

"I can't say."

Sarah's own teeth were clenched now and she took another step forward, "Look. I get that you two hunt, really I do. I even understand the protective attitude. But how many times did you two tell each other that you can't save everyone?" His answering look made her grin. It ground his beans that she knew almost as much about him as his own brother. "Yeah, that was in there, too. Well you can't save us, you got that? Samantha is right! We make our own destiny, Dean."

The steps were slow as he moved to her. Something had changed in his eyes during her tirade, and Sarah's widened. Oddly, the air of the room changed. They weren't just talking about the shitty situation anymore, "You're right. We do. We make our own choices. Our own decisions." Somehow, he'd manuevered her between him and the door, "What decision will you make, Sarah?"

When had it happened, she wondered. He was a playboy, a womanizer. The books had said so and everything she'd experienced with him up to that point only furthered that stereotype. It didn't erase it, though. The unnatural attraction, the chemistry between them. They were nothing alike. In fact, she was more like his brother in behavior than she was him. Still...with his lips a breath from hers, she couldn't help the tingling anticipation in her stomach. Blinking, she stared at him, and wanted to swear at how her lips trembled for his kiss. Reaching up, she gripped his shirt in her fist.

"One that I'm probably going to regret in the morning."

The sound of the lock was an echo in her ears as Dean switched the bolt. They'd have privacy for however long it took for Samantha and Sam to duke it out outside. Which, knowing her sister, would be a hot minute. That woman could hold a grudge, and was stubborn as hell. All thought fled her mind when Deans lips took hers. His lips took her mouth quickly, one hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, the other slipping behind her and under her shirt. Warm calloused flesh rubbed over the soft skin of her back and she strained into him. Devestating, was a fleeting thought in her mind, as his kiss obliterated her senses. Like wading through a storm of emotion, he held her against him and demanded whatever sweetness he could find from her mouth. Hard and searching his tongue probed open her lips until she was left weak and wanting.

Sagging against the door, she grasped the other hand up to grip beside her other in his shirt. If she didn't hold tight, she'd fall. Legs having gone to jelly, she moaned into his mouth. Fast, it was so rapid, and his hand was out of her hair to reach for the bottom of her shirt. Gripping it in his hands, he moved it aside to rub his hands across her stomach. Still, his lips never left hers. Her body hummed against his caress and she felt the slow build of want at her core, crying out to him as he danced fingertips over her flesh. When he reached the fabric cups of her bra, and pulled one up placing his full palm on her breast, she found her senses. It was as if the shock of touch, of desire, electrocuted her brain into remembering. Remembering herself, and who he was. Roughly, she pulled away from his lips. She should tell him to stop, that this was too fast. When his head and lips descended to her neck, though, the words wouldn't come. His fingers found the bud of flesh he desired beneath the fabric and began to pluck and pinch. Deliciously, she arched her back toward him, cradling the base of his neck in her hands. When had she moved? Gasping, she blinked, deliberately moving her hands to his chest again. She had to stop this now, before it was too late. Shoving him, he moved quickly, and away.

Her face was rosey with desire, and she rapidly pulled her shirt back down, adjusting her bra back to it's proper place. Glancing to him she saw the confusion, but more so the dark haze of desire, in his eyes. They stared at eachother for a long minute, both their lips swollen from the feverish heat of the kiss. When he made to move forward, to take her again, she held up a hand stopping him. The other on her chest as she caught her breath. When she was sure she could speak without her voice trembling, she nodded with the words.

"That's enough."

There was no conviction behind the words, and Dean knew it. The way his eyes lit with amusement and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"For now."

"No," she shook her head, "I'm not going to sleep with you. You can get that out of your head right now. I'm not-"

"Not attracted to me? That's crap and you know it. You felt that as much as I did. And you're not about to lie to me and try to take that back now."

She nodded slowly as he retreated to his bag. Reaching down, he began to dig through it, seeking a change of clothes as well. When he'd retrieved a shirt and pants, and blatantly found a pair of boxers, he rose. Giving her a long heated look that she felt clear to her toes, he smirked again. Damn him.

"I'll be in the shower, Sarah. You may want to take a cold one when I finish."

When he had the door shut and locked behind him, she turned and unlocked the door to the hotel. With this done, she moved to the bed and all but collapsed as her weak knees could no longer hold her weight. Leaning forward she held her head in her hands.

"I am in so far over my head..."

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"Samantha, wait!"

Rage spurned her forward. Reaching into her pocket, she grasped a few coins as she came to the large vending machine. Glancing to them, she counted and nodded her head before inserting them into the slot of the machine. He'd caught up to her, she could feel him behind her. Fighting the shiver, as the night had chilled and her hair was wet, she ignored his presence.

"You two can't leave."

Pressing the button on the machine, she sighed when the pepsi fell and she stooped to pick it up. Plucking the tab, she brought it to her lips and tipped it back taking a deep swig. Nodding, she turned to continue on her walk. Sams hand on her arm stopped her. Only for a moment, long enough to turn and glare at him.

"Take. Your hand. Off of me."

Okay, he thought, and released her. Mantha was stubborn as a mule and spit fire like a dragon. He would have to tread carefully here. As she continued to move away, he followed behind her. Mantha walked towards the road, cursing herself that in her haste to leave the motel room, she'd not brought a jacket. It was damn cold. Sipping the pop in her hand she leaned against the wall of the building, staring up at the sky. Sighing deeply again, she tried not to think. Even for just a second, she didn't want to think. When Sam sidled beside her and followed her movement of leaning against the building she said nothing. Oddly, it was comforting to have him there, though she'd have preffered to be alone. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the smokes and withdrew one from the pack. Pressing it to her lips, she lit it with her zippo and replaced the pack in her pocket. Taking a long drag she closed her eyes with the pleasure of it, before releasing the smoke.

"We're not going with you, Winchester," she managed after a long moment.

He didn't respond for a second, and she glanced to him. His eyes were on the sky, and he was thinking. When he finally looked to her, though, something unreadable was in his gaze.

"They won't stop, you know. Even if you take off. You'll get another, and another."

"Remind me to thank you for that later."

Taking another drag, she shook her head, "So what, I'm psychic now?"

"Not exactly..."

Her eyes found his again, though hers were narrowed with annoyance.

"What do you mean, not exactly. What am I?"

"I...uhm..."

"Sam. What am I?"

"An oracle."

They whirled to the sound of the voice. Nora stood, her eyes patient and understanding. It was enough to send Samantha over the edge. Holding up the hand with the smoke in it, she basically told the angel to wait. Taking a deep drag from the smoke, she held it in, and then blew it out.

"Okay. One, Stop doing that!" She planted her feet, staring her down, "And two, I'm a what?!"

"An oracle. A diety who recieves prophetic predictions or precognition of the future, inspired by God."

"Wait...diety...as in...not human?"

"You are now part of the divine. That is correct. Angel blood is in your veins."

Samantha huffed out a shocked breath and stared at the ground with wide eyes. Shaking her head, she glanced to her again.

"How?"

"When you were a child, it was given to you. The memory will return in due time. For now, we only wish you to follow the visions from the Heavenly Father."

"Well then, sister, someone tapped your frequency, because that was not a vision from God."

"You assume God speaks to you directly. Angels communicate to you, not our Father. The message comes from him, the delivery from us."

"Okay, then if the vision was from an angel, explain the fucking brand in my arm."

"I cannot."

"You-" Samantha grated out, dropping the smoke and stamping it out, "You don't know?"

"We are not in charge of what you see. Only that you are protected."

The run around was starting to piss her off again, and she turned to glance to Sam, "Handle the princess, before I wring her neck."

Sam stepped forward, around Mantha and addressed Nora.

"What's the point? Of the visions?"

"We show her what needs to be stopped. What needs to be prevented. From what I understand, the vision that was sent to her at this time was intercepted."

"By who?" Sam asked, confused.

"Lucifer."

"Wait...Lucifer as in...the devil?"

"He has many names."

Sam nervously ran his hands through his hair. "Lucifer branded her with that mark. Why?"

"We do not yet know. It is imperative you do not go to the location he gave you. But another vision will come. Many, in fact. They can come at any time, in any way. She may touch something, see something, or they may come with no warning at all. But they are all necessary for the devine mission. The four of you, your compliance is essential."

"You know what works better than visions that split my skull?" Samantha interrupted, after taking a deep pull of her pop. "Words. That'd be awesome."

"We cannot do that at this time."

"Why the hell not?"

"Angels. We have vessels. People that will hold us. They are being slaughtered."

The two were quiet for a moment.

"How did I get it? I mean...you said I had the blood since I was a kid. How come it suddenly works now?"

"Sam Winchester."

The glare she turned on him was enough. He shrugged, his eyes apologetic. As if to say, 'I didn't know.' When she turned to Nora again, she was gone. Samantha threw her hands into the air.

"Freaking angels."


	12. Running

They had slept that night. Samantha and Sam retreating back to the hotel room saying nothing. What was there to say? They'd just received and overload of information and that was that. To dwell on it, discuss it now, would only further exhaust them and they were spent. When they entered, Sarah had already curled up in one of the beds and was long asleep. Mantha sighed and cast Sam a glare again before sliding in bed beside her sister, wrapping the covers near over her face. Dean and Sam had followed, akwardly sharing their own bed before they all slept soundly and into the early morning.

When Sam woke, it was slow, eyes heavy. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed at them and glanced over. The girls were still sound asleep and he stared for a moment, feeling the pull of guilt. As if it was somehow their fault that their lives were now upside down.

It sounded as though Dean was at the computer, clicking away and Sam moved to the end of their bed, sitting and pinching the bridge of his nose. So as not to wake the girls, he raised his head to his brother, then gestured outside. Dean stifled a groan and closed the laptop, following him outside. Closing the door behind him, the walked to the lobby of the grubby motel and entered, each making themselves a cup of coffee in silence.

"How'd your night go?" Dean asked, taking a seat at one of the round tables.

"Um..." he took a drink before sitting and pulling the chair close to the table. "We had another visit from Nora."

"Joy."

"She told Samantha what she was."

It was everything Dean could do not to hit something. "How did she take to that?"

"Not well. At all. Nora said that the vision she had was tapped."

"Tapped. Like a phone line?"

Sam took another pull of his coffee. "I guess. Something like that. She said it was Lucifer."

"Lucifer. Like...the devil."

"Yeah."

Sam filled Dean in on the events of the evening. How Nora had informed them that Samantha was now a direct line for angel communication. They were supposed to just follow any visions she had, and follow what the angels said. Dean seemed to grow more aggitated with each sentence.

"So what, now we're angel bitches?"

Sam shook his head, annoyed as well. "Apparently."

"That's freaking fabulous." He set his cup down and pressed his hands together and perched his chin on top of them. "What I don't understand is why us? What Sarah has to do with all of this, and why we're the babysitters."

It was a good question. One that proved to have no answer. Why were Sam and Dean in charge of the girls? And how did Sam pass on the visions in such a stronger form? Nora had said that Samantha had been given angel blood when she was a child. If her and Sarah were sisters, why didn't Sarah have it as well? What did Castiel mean when he said that they didn't have the upbringing that they were supposed to have? There were too many questions and not enough answers.

"We're going to have to ask them," Dean said with a grimace.

"Ask them what?"

"About their lives. How they were raised."

Sam opened his mouth to speak when a sound met his ears and two lines appeared at his brows. It sounded suspiciously like Baby starting up. They both glanced to the window. Sure enough, Sarah and Samantha were in the car, backing out of the parking lot in a hurry. "Son of a bitch!" Dean managed as they both scrambled out of their seats to run to the parking lot. The car sped away and all they saw was Samantha's hand sticking out of the driver side window, her middle finger to the sky as they peeled out of the parking lot and on to the street, out of sight in seconds.

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They'd both heard the door click when Sam and Dean had left the room. Samantha sat up like a shot, and Sarah followed in seconds. They didn't have to use words. Brain twins, Sarah thought, as she grabbed her bag. Tossing clothes into their packs, moving at the same speed, they soon were completely packed. Samantha moved to the night stand beside the bed the guys had occupied. Grabbing the key to his car, she held it up to show Sarah.

"Moron," Samantha said with a smirk, before opening the drawer and grabbing what cash she could find from his wallet. "Boys are stupid."

They both shouldered their packs and moved their guns to their wastebands before Samantha moved to the door. Opening it gently, she peeked out. Barely, she made out the shapes of the guys in the lobby, talking and sharing coffee. A soft chuckle escaped her chest and she nodded to Sarah. They moved to the car quickly, each tossing their packs into the back seat. It was too easy, Sarah thought. But they both knew that they weren't hunter material. Somehow, they believed if they could run back to their own lives, they could be out of this. Destiny be damned. They both buckled their belts before looking to eachother. A wordless approval between them both before Samantha started the car. Throwing it into reverse, she barely cast a glance behind her. The car wasn't bad, but it wasn't quiet and she knew Sam and Dean would know the moment she started it. Sure enough, as she drove by the lobby, she managed to see the guys shoving their way out into the parking lot. Smiling, she rolled down the window and flipped them the bird as she moved to the street and gunned the engine.

They were quiet for about five miles before Sarah spoke.

"They're gonna be pissed."

"Fuck 'em." Samantha responded, uncaring.

"What happened last night?"

Samantha spoke of the events, of Nora, and her role in all of this. It was clear by the way she white knuckled the wheel and spoke on occasion threw grit teeth that she wasn't happy about the entire situation.

"So we, what? Ignore visions and keep running?"

"Those idiots don't know where we're from, Sarah. Even if we decide to go home, they wouldn't know where to look. Once we get Flint and high tail it, they're fucked."

Sarah nodded, ignoring the feeling of regret that was nagging at her. Part of her wanted to tell her sister that this was stupid. There was no way they'd be able to outrun angels, but the words didn't come. Instead, she grimaced as Mantha lit up a smoke in Dean's car and smiled at her.

The town from the day before wasn't far. About an hour drive, but the whole drive was tense, with both women glancing behind them to see if the guys had followed somehow. When they finally reached Samantha's car, she pulled up beside it and shut off the engine. Reaching into the backseat, she grabbed her pack and smiled when Sarah did the same. Leaving the keys under the seat, she got out and moved to her own car.

"Hello, beautiful," she said, smiling, running her hand along the hatch of the trunk, "I'm so sorry those stupid boys made me leave you behind."

"Your relationship," Sarah began as she slid into her seat, pushing the pack to her feet, "With your car is completely unhealthy."

Samantha rolled her eyes and smiled, shaking her head, before shutting the hatch of the trunk. Sliding into the front seat, she buckled and nodded when Sarah did the same. Pulling out, she gave one last glance to Dean's car, before they moved back onto the road.

"Deuces, bitches."


	13. Monotony

_**Months later...**_

Moss Landing, California

Time passes in monotony. Sure, vacations can take away the day to day rut that we all live in, but at the end of the day? We all have to go back. Back to the lives we left behind. For Samantha and Sarah, that was the case. They'd been able to leave Dean and Sam behind, enjoy as much as they could of their original vacation. Oddly, the angels didn't follow them, force them back together again. The women were well aware of their situation now, but they had both shoved it back to the back burner. It was all forgotten, mostly. That is, other then the occasional, and completely ignored, vision from Samantha. Now, they were back home. No, not home. Where they parked their lives.

Their jobs weren't really enjoyable. In point of fact, they hated them. These were the jobs that, typically, one did at home over the phone. Thanks to LA, though, they were too close to the busy city to afford such a luxury. So instead, they worked in the same building in small cubicles. Unfortunantely, on different floors.

Sarah wasn't comfortable with the job that they'd both gotten into. They'd moved her to the dispatch department. This was fine with her, of course. Who wanted to talk all nasty to grown ass men who couldn't get it up? Not her. Nope. Right in the nope box, she would say.

Samantha, however, she felt that everyone needed to get their rocks off now and then. If she could help that along by telling a story? Why the hell not? This was where they sat, again. The rut had assumed it's position as they dragged themselves to work, then both went home and crashed. Sure, they'd looked for better jobs, but honestly, there wasn't much out there anymore. Too many people, a terrible economy. Other than minimum wage, they were pretty well stuck where they were. So, as usual, they sat. Partially regretting their choice not to stay with the guys, but somehow grateful they'd left. Sure, it was boring. Even occasionally frustrating, but it sure wasn't going to get them killed.

That was their mutual thought when Samantha crawled out of bed and Sarah dried off from her shower. As they climbed in the car, they were both rather silent, until they pulled up before the building. It wasn't overly large, after all, it was a small town just south of L.A. Still, the building was adorned with soft brown bricks, and wide glass windows. Four stories, but it was enough to seperate the dispatch, the executives, and the "Working Girls and Guys." A sign in front read "Tech Talk. Making dreams come true since 1998." Samantha pinched the bridge of her nose once, groaning, before grabbing her purse.

"Hey, Dispatch, your shift isn't for another hour, right?"

Sarah winced, "Yeah..."

Samantha turned to her, smiling softly, eyes pleading, "Do you love me enough to get me a coffee? Talking dirty to dudes without caffeine is torture."

"Talking dirty to dudes you don't know is torture alone."

"Sarah..."

"Yeah yeah. Usual?"

"Mmm, yes please," she climbed out of the car and blew her sister a kiss, "See you in a bit." Turning, she faced the building and went inside. Sarah shook her head and pulled from the curb. Yes, small town, but people came from all over to work at Tech Talk. Sarah barely knew the names of the people she was driving by. It wasn't a particular great place, but hey, it worked. Besides, it was great for staying off radar. Smirking, she pulled before the small town owned coffee shop and parallel parked before the building. Her outfit was slimming, but proffessional. A long sleeved blouse white blouse, with bunched sleeves at her wrists. Her hair was swept to one side in a soft braid, that she'd managed right out of the shower. Call it a lazy style, she didn't care. A slim pencil skirt draped over her legs and swished as she walked, her heels clicking on the pavement. Opening the door, she tucked her wallet beneath her arm and allowed the older woman to go before her, ignoring the disdaining look the woman gave her. Everyone, and that meant all six hundred people, in this town knew who worked where. They may not know her name, but they knew of her. People here gossiped like children. Falling into her place in line, she ignored the whispers and the stares and tilted her head to the side to crack it.

When she finally came to the counter, she ignored the look in the mans eyes before speaking. The men in this town didn't know who was dispatch and who wasn't. The looks she got were enough to prickle the hair on the back of her neck. She hated getting the morning coffee. There was that ping of regret again, and she shoved it down.

"Caramel Frappe please, medium. And a Caramel Latte, one extra shot of esspresso, large, please."

The man nodded and she handed him the money before taking a step to the side so someone else could order. When the drinks were finished, she stepped from the building and moved to the car. She loathed her car. Brown, rust covered, and hideous, it was a 1984 Toyota Camry. The thing was loud. Not just, "Oh that needs a tune up" loud. No, it was "Someone kill that thing and put it out of it's misery" loud.

As she approached the door, she set the coffees on top of the car and frowned. There was that feeling, like someone was watching you. Carefully, Sarah did a quick sweep with her eyes. Nothing to the right, nothing around her car, but as she turned to the left, she saw them. Sam and Dean Winchester, and someone she didn't recognize. Her heart dropped to her toes and she felt the blood drain from her face. Grabbing the coffee, she nearly catipulted herself into the vehicle. Sam had spotted her as she shut her door and they made solid eye contact before she watched his lips move, alerting the others to her presence. As she started the engine, peeling out of the parking lot, she watched them start to race toward her before she lost them in the rearview of her mirror.

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"Yeah?" Samantha said, adjusting the head seat over her orange hair, "And how does that feel, baby?" Her voice was deep and seductive but she was rolling her eyes and clicking away on the computer to keep her mind on what she should be saying. Before the client called in, they were given a certain category. Each category was listed to the answering side before the call, so she (or he) had time to check on the computer for what sorts of things to say. In this case, the caller wasn't dirty. He was just lonely and wanted to talk. So she pretended to listen. When he finally stopped talking and disconnected, she cursed and set down the head set. Pausing her line, she groaned again as she looked at the clock. It had only been about thirty minutes and she already wanted to go home.

Standing, she moved to the break room for some water. Where the hell was Sarah, she thought to herself. Placing a paper cup under the spout, she let the water pour in before taking a deep swallow. Cracking her neck, she turned. Sarah barrelled through the door, and Mantha's eyes went wide.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You look like you saw a ghost."

"Winchesters. Grab your stuff. We need to get gone."

"Wait, what?" Samantha tossed the cup aside, and it landed in the trash, "They're here?"

"Yes. I don't know how they found us, but we need to go."

"Fuck that, Sarah."

Sarah paused, taking a quick seat, breath gasping from her lungs, "What?"

"We live here. This is our life. The fact that they're here means they are probably working a case. They work their case, they leave. End of story."

"No," Sarah shook her head hard, "Dean made it pretty clear the night before we left that they had every intention of keeping us against our will."

Samantha scoffed, "Oh that'd be funny as hell. You know what I could do to that greaser?"

Sarah still looked visably shaken, and Samantha frowned. Moving to her, she sat in front of her grabbing her hands, "Look. They're just boys. Granted, boys with guns, but they can't make us do anything. They didn't know our last names, Sarah. We're below the radar. They aren't here for us. But..." She released her and rose, "If it would make you feel better to claim illness and spend a few days at home while they're here, I wouldn't say no."

"Oh bless you," Sarah said, half laughing.

"I'm not staying home, though. We can't both afford to miss work. You go. Go veg on the couch. I'll stay here and get work in, and meet you home later."

Sarah smiled, pulling her sister into a hug, "Thank you, Mantha."

"They'll be gone before we know it. It'll be fine."

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" 'Tech Talk?' Isn't that the line you call in once in a while Dean?" Sam asked, the laughter in his voice.

"I can't believe she works there. Maybe she's not one of the callers."

Dean, Sam, and Cas had all spotted Sarah as she'd rushed to her car. They were faster. Getting into his own, they followed a few cars behind and parked. Cas of course had no idea what was so fascinating about the building to the Winchesters, but he kept it to himself.

"Nora has been watching them. They are fine."

"Yeah well, fine doesn't really cut it. You yourself said they're supposed to be with us. And now, we know why."

"Mostly, yes. You don't have all the answers, Dean."

"All I know is that if they're going to help us, keep us from saying yes and bringing on an appocalypse, I want them as close as humanely possible."

"That's not guaranteed."

They watched as Sarah came from the building again, a few minutes later and got back into her clunker. Pulling from her spot, Dean turned to Sam.

"Ten to one, they work at the same place. Whip out your badge, see if you can find Samantha."

"We still don't have last names, Dean..."

"Doesn't matter. Figure it out. Get out of my car."

Sam rolled his eyes and opened his door, frowning and crossing his arms as Dean pulled away.


	14. Found

Pulling up before the small apartment complex, Sarah wiped a hand across her face before pulling the keys from the ignition. Samantha could be right, she thought to herself. Maybe they were just there to work a case. Upon seeing her, however, would the case be forgotten? Sarah didn't want to take that chance, she thought as she shut her car door, ignoring her now cold coffee in the cup holder of her p.o.s car. Glancing around her, she took in her surroundings making sure she hadn't been followed before she pressed her key into the hole, opening the front door to the building. Stepping into the dingy green painted lobby, she nodded to the doorman and moved to the elevator. She still didn't know his name, and she didn't care.

Turning, she pressed the button for her floor and sighed, relieved, when the door closed silently. The elevator croaked to her floor and when it opened she stepped out, forgetting her fear for a moment. Sitting on the couch and being lazy for a few days sounded great. It wasn't just that she didn't want to work there, it was simply exhausting. They'd been there for months, and she was just tired. The vacation was supposed to help, but it had only helped while they'd been on it. Eventually, they'd had to go back and she was unhappy about it. Still...it beat possible death. Her mind recalled Samantha's scars and she frowned. Yes. Monotony was better, she convinced herself.

Moving to the apartment she and Mantha shared, she unlocked the door and entered quietly. However, as she turned to close the door, a foot blocked her motion. The blood drained from her face as Dean shoved his way into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. Instantly, she took a few steps back before clenching her fists at her side and staring him dead in the eye.

"Get out."

"No."

Dean crossed his arms and regarded her with a raised brow before shaking his head, "You don't look like someone who should be working at 'Tech Talk,' Sarah."

Her eyes narrowed and she matched his posture, crossing her own arms, "Is that right?"

Stepping forward, he circled half of her before he leaned against the couch in the middle of the room, "So, this is where you and Samantha live, huh? Doesn't really look like you. Or," he continued, giving a sweep of the place with his eyes, "like furniture you would own."

She eyed the door and wondered if she would make it, but fought that bit of cowardice. It was one thing to panic to Mantha, she was blood. In this case, though, her pride wouldn't let her back down from Dean. Turning, she faced him, chin raised.

"Because we don't own it. It came prefurnished. It gets the job done, anyway. Now, get out."

Ignoring her, he picked at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder. It was awkwardly silent for a long moment before he looked up at her, "You ran."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You made it perfectly clear that you were going to force us to stay. You don't know us very well, Dean. You can't force us to do anything."

"Maybe not Samantha..."

Sarah's eyes narrowed again, "No. I make my own choices, Dean."

Carefully, he took several steps toward her before he was standing directly in front of her. Quickly, he grabbed her arms and her heart lept into her throat, "Maybe. But the reason you made it and the reason she made it are completely different."

Speaking was difficult, but she managed, "How?"

"She was running from the visions. From the destiny that is wrapped with Sammy. You? You were running from this."

Without warning, he pressed his lips to hers. The slow melt came completely unexpected to her, as his flesh connected with hers. Tingling, she raised her hands to his chest not knowing whether she was going to push him away or pull him closer. She hung there, not having any idea where to go from here. He took her shock as surrender and plundered the cavern of her mouth, tasting the sweetness within. A soft keening sound escaped her throat and she felt the door at her back. Had they moved? Feeling was all she had in that moment, even as Deans right hand released her arm to inch toward the bottom of her skirt. Slowly, deliciously, he began to inch it up her thighs. Her own hand reached to grasp at his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

It was fast. He flicked at the buttons on her shirt, pulling each one free with ease, and she watched, as if in a transe. Letting him have his way, in this moment, she didn't care. Her heart was a piston in her chest, pumping with the blood that was rushing in her ears. That was one thing about Dean, she thought. No, she hadn't seen him in months, but he still had the amazing ability to talk her from her caution. Taking his lips this time, though his hands still worked at her buttons, she ran her hand along the curve of his stubbled chin. Reaching back, she gripped her fingers in his hair to pull him close.

He was moving so quickly. She didn't even know how it had happened, but suddenly her skirt was bunched about her waist and he was working at the zipper to his jeans. Face flushed, she didn't move to stop him, merely stared. Watching, making no move to help, she frowned at the sound of a throat clearing. Dean froze, and turned toward the sound. Nora sat, perched on the top of the couch, head tilted and a small smile fixed on her lips. Frantically, and as Dean moved away, Sarah pulled her skirt down and adjusted it, then gripped the edges of her shirt, pulling it closed. Nora shook her head, clucking her tongue, though her eyes spoke of amusement.

"You angels have shitty timing," Dean said, his throat husky, and backed away.

"You're forgetting what needs to be done, Dean. You had instructions on the way over."

"I was taking a quick detour."

"Back on track, please."

Dean groaned and Sarah's eyes widened for a moment before her gaze moved back to Deans. What the heck was Nora talking about? Though she shoved her back against the door, she saw the cloth before he moved. "Dean," she warned vocally, but he was faster. She couldn't escape the cloth that was shoved over her nose and mouth. Her last fleeting thought as conciousness escaped her was that Samantha was going to be pissed...

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Pinching her nose again, Samantha bit her lip. This guy was too much, she thought idly, giving appropriate timed responses. When she completed the call and hung up, she shook her head. Poor fool. All the guy wanted was a girl, it's too bad he had to have the fantasy. Often, she pitied these guys, or sometimes, girls. They just wanted love they couldn't seem to find. The light on her console flashed and she sighed. Pressing the small yellow answer button, she listened to Dispatch.

"Discussionary patron. Be a friend. Please press one to answer, or the red button to decline."

Shaking her head, she pressed one and spoke softly, as if she had all the time in the world, "Hello, you've reached Myranda."

"Hello, Samantha."

Rapidly, she blinked, hesitating only a moment before she recovered, "I'm sorry, Sir, this is Myranda." They all had aliases. To keep them safe, to protect them. There was another Samantha on the floor, and she hoped, prayed even, that this had been some sort of mistake, "If you would like to talk to Samantha, I can transfer you."

"Do not lie to me, Samantha."

Okay, not a mistake. Carefully, she kept her posture composed, though she was alert now and listening intently, "Who is this?"

"You don't recognize my voice, Mantha? It should be easy for you by now, love..."

The dim sound of thunder in her ears made the words come out in a whisper, "Lucifer."

"Ah, I thought so. I figured now, since you're about to be moved, would be a nice time for a little chat."

"I've had enough of your 'chats'. Stay out of my dreams, and out of my life," her voice was like a hiss as it left her lips. Lucifer had been coming to her in visions as well as dreams and trying to get her to come to him. Being the stubborn chit she was, she kept it to herself. She had yet to even tell Sarah, though her sister knew she'd been having nightmares. Alcohol seemed to prevent him from coming in, so often times she had drank until she could only see colors, and collapsed into dreamless sleep. When she forgot, though, he came, and...talked. Told her he wanted her to ditch Sarah and come to him. As of yet, she didn't know why. Only that she was fighting the urge to do so. For some reason, it was physically draining to deny it, but her will was stronger, she told herself, "What do you mean, moved?"

"Sam Winchester is in the building. Dean already has your sister, and Sam was instructed to take you by force."

Swallowing, she allowed the chuckle to escape, "He can try. I'll kick his ass."

"He has the means. It was instructed by my brothers and sisters. They mean to keep you from me."

"Good. Maybe I should go with them."

"You do not understand. They are not your friends. You misunderstand me, what I'm about. Why I need you and Sammy. I've tried to explain my intentions, and you do not listen."

"I don't give a fuck about your 'intentions,' Lucifer."

The smile in his voice was audible. "You will. I'll find you again. But for now, I thought to warn you. Be prepared, the Winchesters are not what they seem. They currently take orders from my siblings, no questions asked."

Nodding, she spoke softly, "I got you..." She paused when he remained silent. "I guess I should say thank you."

"You will," he said, and the line disconnected.

Frozen, she stared at the screen for a long moment before rising, removing the head set. What should she do at this point? They already had Sarah, so it wasn't like she could run. But the thought of being made to do something she didn't want to do made her blood boil. Sarah had been right and she felt her face flame with anger. Oh, they would so pay for this. Stepping from her desk, she adjusted the soft green and yellow flowered blouse about her shoulders. The short sleeves danced over her arms and she had chosen a pair of black slacks with black heels. Two green dangling beads danced at her ears as she made her way to the security desk in the lobby. If she alerted them that there was an intruder in the building, maybe it could buy her the time she needed to kick Deans ass and get her sister back.

As she approached the desk, however, her face fell. Sam stood, in a mother fucking suit, flashing some sort of badge at the man behind the desk. She watched them exchange words as she stood paralyzed at the door opening. Slowly, as if in a dream, Sam turned his head to face her. Eyes hard and jaw clenching, he stared at her. Wetting her lips, she raised her chin and plastered on the biggest fake smile she could muster. Two could play at this game, asshole.

"Agent. How good to see you again."

Sam faltered, as she'd hoped he would. There was a reason she worked here, she thought. Having been raised the way she had, she could act circles around this jolly green giant. "You as well," he managed.

"If this is about the Cyracuse case, I'm afraid I've told you all I know," though her words said one thing, her eyes said another thing. In this case, she glanced to the guard and then back to Sam, smirking. As if to say, 'Try it, asshole.'

"We have a few more questions. If you could come with me-" she cut him off with a tilt of her head, and a cluck of her tongue, "I'm afraid I can't. My sister has gone home sick," her eyes hardened at that and she watched his mouth close and the look of frustration cross his face. "Therefore I'm our only source of income at the moment. If you'd like to come back another time, I can see if she's well enough and we can discuss it together."

Sams chest inflated with the amount of air he took in at his frustration. She was besting him, and he knew it. Still, as they stood there giving eachother looks of irritation, she wondered how she'd get rid of him and be able to get her sister. As an idea came to her, her lips curved, "You did come at an excellent time, though. I'm sure she'll be better in a few days. You see, she was nominated for the Dispatch of the month award. She'd not miss that in a million years."

Without even voicing what she meant, he knew. She'd let them go, for now. But the moment he was gone, she'd report her sister missing and he and Sam and Dean would be wanted. Again. He pressed his front teeth together before nodding to her. Turning on his heel, he left the building without another word, feeling Samantha's smile and look of triumph on his back as he did so.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The car door slammed and Dean glanced to the back seat to see that Sarah hadn't even flinched, still unconcious. Turning, he stared at his brother, noting the anger in his face. Sam was always very expressive and easy to read.

"Where is she?"

"She's good, Dean. Real good. For one, I'm pretty sure she knew I was coming."

"Vision?"

"I don't think so."

"And?"

"And she tricked the hell out of me. Wouldn't budge. I couldn't very well take her right in front of the security guard. Oh, and also, she knows we have Sarah. Made it blatantly obvious that she plans on filing a missing persons."

Dean slammed his hand against the wheel, "Son of a bitch...Cas!"

Nothing. They sat in the silence of the vehicle, before Dean rolled his eyes, "Dammit Cas, you gave these orders. You and Nora, tell us what we're supposed to do now."

A flutter of movment was detected in the back seat and they both glanced back. Cas sat beside Sarah and looked to her for a long moment, before turning back to them.

"Where's the other?"

"She pulled one over on Sam. She's still inside."

The look Sam passed to Dean was enough that he didn't need to clarify with words. "There's security guards all over the place, and she plans on filing a missing persons on Sarah."

"Did she know you were coming?"

"Yes, dammit!"

"We didn't give her a vision of that, Dean," his brow wrinkled in his brooding confusion, "I have a plan."


	15. Details

Though her hands were shaking, Samantha set the head set down on the desk before her. Darkness had long since settled and she'd tried reporting her sister missing. All she'd got was a bullshit woman working at the desk, telling her that it hadn't been twenty-four hours.

Furious did not even begin to describe her mood. Rising, she threw her coat over her arms, flipping up the back of the collar and pulling down the waistband. Shaking her head again, she moved to grab her purse and glanced around to the others. There were still a few women on shift, and they waved as she made her way out. Lucifer had not attempted to call her back, and for that she was grateful.

Carefully, she stepped out of the building, and glanced back and forth with her eyes. Nothing. Completely dead silent. And Sarah's car wasn't there, which meant she had to walk. The town was entirely too small for a cab. Holstering her bag on her shoulder, she began the walk back to her apartment. Picking up her phone, she attempted to dial her sister. She knew full well that Sarah wouldn't answer, but she needed evidence tomorrow when she reported it, that she'd tried to contact her.

"Hello, Samantha."

Mantha's eyes narrowed at the sound of a voice she didn't recognize. Though she kept walking, her hand had clenched into a fist. "Who is this?"

"My name is Castiel. I am Nora's."

The way he said it made her blood boil. As if that was just the way it worked. As if people belonged to others, and she knew in that moment that it was he and Nora who were working against her.

"Here's what's going to happen, Angel cake. You're going to tell the Winchesters to give me my sister back. Or-"

"Or what, Samantha? There is nothing you can do."

Her hand clenched on the phone at her ear, and a slow cruel smile spread on her face, "That's where you're wrong. There's records of phone conversations, Castiel," even as she spoke, she crossed the street, heading toward the police station. "All I have to do now is show them the length of this call. Boom. Kidnapping. Congratulations."

It grew deathly silent on the other end. Several of her footsteps passed before she heard another voice, "Mantha...You need to come with us. As cheesy as this sounds," It was Dean, and her eyes narrowed, "The fate of the world hangs in the balance..."

"You're right, Dean," she said, looking at the phone, her finger hovering over the end button, "That does sound cheesy," and she hung up.

Placing her phone in her pocket, she moved faster down the street, knowing where the station was. Those idiots had dug their own grave. As she walked, she wondered why she was fighting so hard to not be a part of this. Fighting so hard to be her own person. As her mind wandered, she nodded to herself. No, she knew why. Control. She craved control over her own life after never having it for so long. She knew Sarah felt the same way.

Though she had heard the footstep before the movement, she still hadn't quite been prepared. Swinging her bag behind her, she flung it toward the noise, grinning as it solidly connected with Sam's arm. His grunt of pain was deeply satisfying. Where had he come from? Turning, her eyes spotted the alley and when the headlights snapped bright, she felt the panic claw at her throat. They were really kidnapping her and Sarah. They would regret this, she vowed. Turning back to Sam, she gave him the deadliest look, staring up at his face. It was clear he hated this plan, the look in his eyes and the clench of his jaw made this apparent, but he was still doing it. Lucifer was right, she thought. They were taking orders from Angels.

"I'll never forgive you for this, Sam Winchester," she still held her purse like a weapon. His answering look of guilt gave her the edge she needed. Swinging the bag, she aimed for his head and grinned wickedly when it made solid connection, causing him to topple to his knees. Without a second thought, she turned and ran toward the station. The engine of the Impala roared to life and she ran faster, though she at this point accepted that they were going to take her. Still, her fight or flight instinct was spurning her to the police station. Almost there, though by now she heard Sam's gargantuan steps pounding behind her. Oh, she was going to kick his ass. She vowed this as his arm snaked about her waist, easily lifting her from the ground. Though she kicked backwards at his knees, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the growls of pain, the cloth that met her mouth was enough to cause her vision to dip.

"Fuck you all," she hissed into the cloth, and slid into black.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Sarah was drowsy and her throat was dry. Those were her first two thoughts as she came to and moved her hand to her brow. Okay, where was she? Sitting up, she fought the wave of dizzyness the afteraffects were giving her. Blinking rapidly, she glanced about at the nameless hotel. There was no one else here and she frowned. The last thing she remembered...what was the last thing she remembered? Dean. Nora.

"Oh Crap..." she uttered. Dean had kidnapped her. The bastard! From the looks of things, they had yet to get her sister, and she was grateful for that. If they weren't here, that's most likely what they were doing. Standing slowly, and wobbling a bit on her feet, she moved without a second thought to the door. Locked. Oh screw them, she thought growling. Sarah wasn't one to get overly angry, leaving the heat to Samantha, but in this case her inhibitions were gone. Raising a foot, she kicked the door as hard as she could, and winced when it sent pain through her leg. Still, she raised it again and kicked, smiling when the wood cracked. 

The smile vanished instantely and she wasn't able to bask in the small victory because the wood began to reform, as if she hadn't touched it. Groaning loudly and turning back, she raced to the phone and sighed relieved when there was a solid dial tone on the reciever. Carefully, she began to dial when a soft hand was placed over hers. Looking up, her face froze when she met Nora's eyes. Sarah backed away swiftly, eyes slits. "You..."

Staggering back, she fell to her butt on the bed when the backs of her knees met the surface. Carefully, Nora replaced the phone on the reciever and sat on the bed opposite Sarah. They stared at one another for a long moment before Nora spoke, brushing her soft brown hair over her shoulder.

"You do not understand. But I am about to explain your role in all of this."

"I have no role. This is kidnapping!"

"How you came to be here, is of no consequence. What matters is that you four need to be together. I'm going to tell you why. What purpose you have in this apocalypse. It has to be you."

"No, you know what? We want no part in this! And you can't make us."

"I ask you to keep a level head in this, Sarah. Please. Just listen to me..."

They sat in the room, Nora speaking softly, unloading the story of Sam and Dean. Telling her how they are vessels destined to destroy one another. Sam and Dean, decendents of Cain and Abel, and thusly the vessels to Michael and Lucifer. At some point during the story, Sarah rose to pace the room.

"So...Dean is supposed to be Michaels vessel?"

"Yes..."

"And Sam, Lucifer's vessel?"

"Yes."

"So why don't they just do the same? Kidnap them?"

"It is not that simple. They have to say yes."

"Otherwise they can't use them."

"Correct."

"Still..." Sarah said, turning, chewing softly at the inside of her lip between breaks in her speech. "I don't understand what that has to do with me and Samantha. We're just people."

"Incorrect. If you recall, your sister has angel blood now activated in her veins. An Oracle."

Sarah moved to the bed again slowly, taking a seat once more as Nora began to explain her sisters role. Her face paled considerably, and she felt sweat bead on her brow. Blinking, she took several deep breaths.

"And...And me?"

"You...You too have Angel blood in your veins, dear Sarah. It is complicated, and when the time comes, I will tell you both exactly where that came from. But know this, you did not come together merely because of Foster care."

"We're...actually related?"

Nora's smile was sweet, "Yes. Half-Sisters, you share the same father."

"...and mine will be activated...?"

"Yes...When Dean says yes to Michael."

Sarah's nod was slow, and she was thoroughly confused. "Okay..."

Nora spoke softly again, and Sarah's face began to harden. Her eyes iced over with coldness and when the Angel finished speaking, Sarah shook her head curtly, once.

"You can't ask me to do that. You just can't."

"If it happens-When it happens. You will have no choice."


	16. Where in the nightmares begin again

_The child only eleven, ran, per instruction. Finding the closet under the stairs her father had built, she had such a fascination with Harry Potter, she grabbed the cool handle in her fingers. Yanking the door open, she thrust herself into its depths, her hair pooling around her face like a black curtain. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she slammed the door behind her, locking it tight. _

_No one followed, though she stared at the vent like window for what seemed like hours. Deathly silent in the house, her breath the only sound in her ears, coming in rapid succession. 'Please,' she prayed quietly, her bright blue eyes awashed with fresh tears, 'Please God. If you hear me...Not my mommy and daddy. Please...' her voice choked on the last words. _

_Screams, and a bright light shining through the vent. She crouched low and covered her eyes with her fists, her mouth open in a silent scream. The house shook with force and then...nothing._

Sarah shot up in the bed, sweat fresh on her brow. Her eyes wide and panicked, she took several swallows against her dry throat before rising from the bed. Moving to the small kitchen, she opened the cupboard and grabbed a glass. Running the faucet, the glass barely grasped in her fingers, she reached a hand under the cool water and rubbed it on her neck.

_'Please...please God...'_

The glass slipped from her fingers and shattered to the ground, shaking Sarah from her memory. Taking a deep breath in her cheeks she blew it out before she bent to pick up the glass from the floor.

"You had it again..."

Sarah didn't have to look up for the tears to pool in her eyes. Not trusting herself to speak, she gave a curt nod.

"Must be the situation," her sister said, taking a seat in the chair.

"When they get back, we're going to have a long talk."

"After I kick their asses."

Sarah gave her a withering look. Samantha's face cracked into a smile. Her sister was wearing bright pink pajama pants, with a grey shirt that showcased a sparkling pink set of lips. The look, coupled with her picking up the glass? It was all horrible, and if she didn't laugh, she'd scream.

"How'd they slip me in without you noticing?" Samantha asked quietly, while her sister picked up the remaining glass and grabbed the broom.

"Nora juiced my drink," Sarah responded. Mantha rose and moved to the cupboard grabbing two new glasses and filling them with cool water. When Sarah had finished sweeping, Mantha set the glasses on the wood circle that was considered a table, and squat to hold the dustpan. Sarah swept the smaller pieces into the pan and rose to dump it. Replacing the items, they both sat at the table. Mantha merely held the water in her hand, before looking up to Sarah. Sarah had almost down the glass.

"They're watching us then?"

"Probably..."

Samantha stared into the water again. They both sat in the silence of their own thoughts before Samantha looked up at her. There were soft bags under her eyes and her hair was a hot mess. Signs that she'd been having the nightmares again. That alone was enough to make her want to bash the boy's faces in. Furious didn't even begin to describe the level of anger she felt. They had made it clear that they wanted no part in this, and yet, here they were. Samantha set her glass down, without even taking a sip.

"This is some bullshit."

Sarah raised her gaze. Her sister still wore the clothes she'd been taken in, only she was covered with dirt. Her hair was pooling about her face in stringy waves, and Sarah frowned, "What do you propose we do? We can't leave."

"Did they say why they took us?" Samantha asked, her hands clasped tightly together.

"Something about destiny and needing to be together."

"So says the angels."

"Yeah."

"Did Sam and Dean say where they were going next?"

Both women jumped sharply at the sound of a voice, and their heads whipped sharply to find Castiel. Samantha rose instantly stepping before her sister, still visably shaken by the nightmare.

"They're going to retrieve the third ring."

"Get out," she all but growled.

"I apologize if you are angered by the course of action we had to take. We had no other choice."

Samantha's eyes narrowed, "You had tons of other choices. You just _chose _to ignore them. Now, how about we start with this. Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Castiel. I am...Nora's fated."

"Great," Samantha said, taking a step forward, "Let's find out if angels bleed," her brows raised and fell once, but Sarah's hand on her arm stopped her.

"I am the one who raised Dean from hell."

"Wait...you..." Sarah rose then, frowning. Her arms crossed harshly over her chest, "You raised Dean from hell."

"Oh...yes. I am sorry, I forgot they had been less than honest about that."

"Less than honest, my ass," Mantha said, her face speaking volumes of anger, "The mother fucker lied."

Castiel sighed and crossed to the sink, looking out the window.

"Nora wishes for the two of you to remain in the dark about your purpose. I wonder...if this is truly a wise request."

They glared at him, neither knowing what to say to that. Castiel turned to them and his nostrils flared a moment, before he stepped forward, "I would like to help you, however. I feel truly terrible for the misfortune of our meeting..."

When he raised each hand toward them, they both stepped back, and Samantha's tounge lashed with harsh words, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I am protecting you," he said, his voice lowering, "Nora and I may want you two together, but other angels are not so sure. You both have marks on your heads, different reasons of course. However, if I can ward you from the sight of angels, you'll be safer for it. I've already done so for Dean and Sam. Trust me. This may, however...sting a bit."

Without further warning, he placed a hand on each woman's chest. Intense pain, like a shot on ever rib at the same time, shot through each. Both women doubled over slightly with it, and they gave him their own looks of shocked awe.

"What was that?" Sarah asked, gasping.

"They are Enochian sigils. They protect you from the sight of angels."

"You branded us?" Samantha asked, shocked. Castiels chuckle made her frown, "What's funny?"

"Dean asked the same when it was done to him. I engraved them into your ribs. You are truly safe now from any angel who would do you harm," his eyes centered on her own, "Including Lucifer."

"Wait...Lucifer?" Sarah glanced between the two of them and when Samantha looked away, she tilted her head, her mouth parting in shock. "You've been found by Lucifer?"

"Does this protect my dreams?" Samantha asked quietly, ignoring her sisters question.

"Unfortunately, no. He can still talk with you there. But he cannot find your exact location."

Sarah's glare was so strong, Samantha could feel it on her shoulder, "It wasn't important. I was handling it."

Sarah's jaw clenched and she nodded, eyes bright with anger, "Handling it. Right. Like you handled Pedro."

Samantha's face crumbled with pain, but she brought up the wall quickly, turning to face her sister, "Apparently I repeat past mistakes," and without another word, she walked back into the bedroom.

Sarah immedietely felt sorry for her words and raised her head to the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. Looking back at Cas again, she wet her lips and then spoke.

"Are you willing to answer questions?"

"It would be wrong to lie. I will answer questions to the best of my ability. Though it would be best if we were all in the same room."

Sarah glanced back toward the bedroom and turned to follow her sister. Sitting on the bed she'd been using, she looked up at Cas. Samantha was standing at the window staring out. She was listening, but for once, she was silent.

"So..." Sarah spoke softly, "Nora said that we're half-sisters...that we share a father."

Samantha blinking rapidly looking at the floor before her gaze returned to peering out.

"Yes. Your father is Izaiahl. A strong warrior for the Lord. He stands now at the right hand of the Lord. God is...away at the moment, so I know not where your father is."

Samantha clenched her fists on her arms, and Sarah did the same with the bedsheet beneath her.

"Why do some angels want us dead?"

"You are both considered...poorly. For different reasons..."

"Do Sam and Dean already know?" Samantha asked quietly from the window.

"Yes...Nora felt it best to explain to them exactly why you needed protection."

"Then don't you think," Mantha asked, her voice hardening as she turned from the window, her arms still crossed, "It would only be fair if the one's who need protecting know why, too?"

Castiel looked to the ground, as if he had never actually considered that, "That would make sense...Yes..."

Castiel raised his gaze to them both, "Where should I begin?"

Sarah looked up at her sister and smiled at her cunning, "Why don't you start," she began, "with what we are."

His answering smile was soft, and he nodded at Sarah first. "You're more difficult to explain, I'm afraid. Your name is Saraiah."

The answering look of shock on both their faces was enough to make him pause before continuing, "You were instructed to kill a child, and you refused, forfitting your grace."

"I'm a...I'm a freaking angel."

"You were, yes."

Sarah stared at the ground, completely floored and silent. Using this opportunity, Castiel looked to Samantha, "You're easier to explain but...sadly, a bit more unfortunate."

"Oh...kay..." she said slowly.

"You're a Nephilim."

Samantha blinked, waiting. When it was clear he needed a push to elaborate, the snarky came from her lips, "Yeah, I don't know what that is." The flutter behind her made her turn, her eyes narrowing into slits. Nora stood, a red gown draped over her petite doll like frame. Her lips were in a soft pout.

"Castiel. We talked about this."

"It is unfair of them to not know of their own bloodline while Sam and Dean know all."

Nora took a deep breath of impatience before turning her gaze to Samantha. Mantha thought she saw a bit of disapproval in her gaze, "You are both considered poorly. Samantha, however...you're an abomination. An unsightly ugliness in the eyes of God and angels."

"Yeah, those words will make me your friend."

"You're part angel and part human. You are not allowed, and your father broke the rules."

"Yet he stands by the side of God."

"That we know of, yes."

"Funny how that works," Samantha said, smirking, blood boiling with annoyance, "Here's a question, if I'm so horrible in the eyes of God and angels, then why does Lucifer keep contacting me?"

Sarah's look shot at her made her squirm a bit, and she wished she'd told her sister about that sooner. Nora's eyes inflamed with anger, "Lucifer is no longer an angel."

Sarah held up a hand, "Technically he is though, isn't he? Just because he fell doesn't make him less of an angel."

Castiel frowned then, stepping forward. Of course the women would take his side, albeit slightly. They could easily understand him, or so they thought.

"He's acting on the hand he was dealt."

"Lucifer was jealous of you-" Castiel began, but Samantha cut him off, stepping back so she could see both him and Nora, "No. Not us. Humans. We're not human, at least not fully...So again, I ask. Why does Lucifer keep trying to get me to meet him to talk?"

Nora and Castiel exchanged a look and Nora shook her head almost unnoticed. Castiel nodded in response, "We can not yet give you that answer."

Samantha threw her hands into the air, turning and groaning, and Sarah looked away. Quietly, she thought. She knew exactly why Lucifer wanted to talk to her sister. Knew what it was he wanted, and keeping Samantha in the dark about that, about it all, might help save her life. When Samantha turned back around, the angels were gone.

"Fuck!"

Sarah looked up and noted that they had poofed again, and gave a small smile when Mantha huffed and sat on the end of her bed. Breathing slowly and quietly, she turned to look at Sarah.

"Can you imagine what Jenene would say right now?"

They spoke in unison at that, both their voices taking on a nasty whine, "You two are so wee-ird." They both collapsed to laughter. Resting their heads on the bed beside one another.

"You think it was on purpose we were raised together?" Sarah asked quietly.

"I dunno," Mantha responded. "I can't see it happening any other way. But Nora did say...that we weren't raised the way we should have been." She turned and propped her head on her hand, elbow on the bed. "Maybe we were supposed to be hunters."

"Then what happened?" her sister wondered aloud.

"Who knows. Crazy hasn't just happened, since I guess we've had it our whole lives..."

"I can't imagine...I can't even imagine thinking of you as disgusting just because of what you are."

"Maybe you didn't. I mean..." Mantha turned to the ceiling again, cracking a smile and trying to add amusement to a shitty situation. "You are old...er."

They laughed again, only this time, it held. As they giggled, they both sighed simultaneously and burst into heavy laughter again. It was as if they needed to get it out of their systems, so they didn't panic at what they were facing. Two angels, now human, trapped, not knowing what was coming. Knowing that others wanted them dead simply for being alive. Their laughs continued on, until tears of amusement streamed down their faces.

It died immedietely with the sound of a door closing.

They paused listening and the sound of a thump, a bag being tossed to the floor, spurned them into action. Samantha was up before Sarah could stop her and she took off toward the front room. Racing past the kitchen and it's wooden table, she moved past the couches and television right to where Sam and Dean stood before the front door. Sarah was hot on her heels, but not fast enough, and she watched as her sisters fist connected with Sam's face. The shock alone sent him back into the door, stumbling and looking at her, shocked. Mantha had a mean right hook. Dean stepped forward, shoving her away, and she glared at him, until Sarah pulled her away. Oh, she was equally as angry, but she knew beating the crap out of them wouldn't help.

Sam wiped at the blood on his bottom lip, raising himself to stand, and glaring at her. "Feel better?"

"No. Wanna go round two?" she all but snarled in response.

"Easy, crouching tiger, hold on," Dean responded, holding out a hand toward her.

"And you!" she yelled, trying to step forward, but Sarah held her arm, "Do you have any idea what you've done?!" She knew the fear of being confined was what had set Sarah's nightmares back into motion. "Do you even care that you set back years, fucking YEARS, of control?!" She was in a rage now, and her sisters quiet plea was the only thing that held her back, "Mantha..."

Samantha turned and looked at her, frowning. Sarah was looking away, embarrassment on her face, cheeks flamed with color. She jerked her arm away and walked to the door. Sam placed a hand on her shoulder and her eyes flooded with ice, "Remove your hand before I remove it for you."

"You can't leave."

Her fake smile spoke volumes, "Right, I'm going to leave my sister here with you two fucktards, and run. Give me a tad more credit, okay, hulk?" She raised her hand from the handle and lifted it to shove him away, when her vision waned. She stepped back from the door, glancing at them both, "You've got to be kidding me..." She staggered back further, and felt her sisters hands on her elbows as she raised her hands to her head. The thunder came in her ears and she cursed violently, "Angels and their timing," she growled loudly before the pain shot through her skull and her legs collapsed beneath her. Her scream was lost in the sight of the vision.

_A teenager, black painted lips, bobbed his head to heavy dark music. Ear buds in his ears behind spiked and very short black hair, an onlooker could take in his smudged eyes, heavy with liner. He wore a black tank top adorned with safety pins, as if that were some sort of fashion statement. A growl sounded, but he didn't hear it. He was in a cd store, looking through disks. Bending, he lifted his bag and looking around, placed one of the square plastic cases in his backpack. Smiling, he threw the bag over his shoulder. Turning, he moved to walk out the back door._

A sign flashed on the door, 'Mix and Match. 318 N. Mitch, Misery, South Dakota.' As the kid moved into the alley, the growling increased, and he looked back behind him. A line appeared at his brows, confused. He couldn't hear it, but he had the odd sensation that something was following him. Wetting his lips, he took one of the buds out, tilting his head. "Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor." Music jammed out of the tiny speaker, and he looked up and down the alley. When the growl sounded again, his face lost expression for a moment. And then, he was running. The onlooker couldn't see it. Couldn't see what was after him. It gained ground and ripped the cloth of the backpack like butter. Then, his face, eyes lifeless, were all that was seen. Blood streamed from the claw marks on his face, and the song played on.

"Let the bodies hit the FLOOOOOOOR."


	17. Someone's First Case

Blue eyes, tired and swollen from tears, her voice hoarse from screaming. Mantha opened her eyes to three faces of concern. Blinking slowly, she glanced at Sarah. Swallowing and then taking a deep breath of air, she noticed that she'd been set on the couch, and Sarah sat beside her holding her hand. Dean had his arms crossed and was standing behind the table in front of her. Sam sat on the arm of the couch on her other side. Lifting her head to speak, she felt the wave of dizziness and laid it back again.

"I'm fine," she lied. Truthfully, her entire body hurt. How much longer could she take this?

"What did you see?" Dean asked, without tact as usual.

"A kid getting ripped apart."

"By what?"

She closed her eyes, frowning, and lifted her hand to rub at them, "I have no idea."

"Alright," Sam began, "We'll check it out. Where?"

"I'm coming, too." Sarah spoke, looking at Dean, daring him to argue.

"Me too," Samantha said, joining in.

"Oh no you're not," Dean responded, holding up a hand.

"Pretty sure they said we needed to be together."

"Not for hunts," was his reply.

"Fuck you, Winchester. How do you expect us to defend ourselves if we have no experience?"

"Like you defended yourselves against the shifter?"

The silence was nearly palpable.

"Mantha and Sam can stay here. You and I can go," Sarah spoke again.

"What the hell, Sarah?" Samantha sat up as best as she could, glaring.

"Do you really think you're in any condition to fight anything right now?"

"No, but I don't trust dickbag over there to have your back."

"Dickbag has more experience on this than you, midget," Dean bit out.

"Midget. How overwhelmingly original."

It was apparent that these two were never going to get along. He was like the annoying older brother she never wanted. Still, the concern in his eyes for her well being wasn't easily ignored. Turning, she glanced at Sam for a moment, before turning back to Dean. "And what the hell are we supposed to do while you're gone, Ace? Play checkers?"

"You need to rest, Mantha..." Sarah responded, "And you know it. That one hit you hard."

"We just need to know where to go..." Dean spoke softly, now.

Leaning forward, she grabbed the pen and pad that was conveniently on the table before them and wrote down the location she'd seen in her vision.

"You're gonna need to make Sarah one of those nifty fake FBI thingys."

Taking a deep breath, she puffed her cheeks with it and huffed it out. Standing slowly, and fighting the stumble that wanted to take hold, she moved past them all and toward the kitchen, and more specifically it's adjoining bedroom, muttering as she went.

"It's fine," Sam said quietly, once she was out of ear shot. "We're both warded against angels and I'm gonna figure out the demon thing we talked about."

Dean nodded, and moved back to his bag, heaving it over his shoulder. Sighing, Sarah rose too and moved to the small suitcase the guys had packed for her and Samantha. Grabbing a black tank and a pair of clean jeans, she lifted them into her hands and turned to face the guys, who oddly hadn't moved., "Just give me a second to change, and we can hit the road."

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The lights passed by the moving vehicle and, though it was low, the soft stream of classic rock played through the speakers. It was the only sound in the vehicle. Sarah, dressed in her outfit she'd chosen as well as her black leather jacket, she hummed quietly along with "Green River" as it streamed through the speakers. Neither of them had said a word since they'd left the others, but oddly there wasn't any tension. Still, Sarah was not ready to forgive him so easily. When the song ended, and another rose to it's peak, she finally spoke.

"You're following angels rules, then? Letting them control your actions?"

"If I didn't listen to them, and listened to you and the short one, I'd still be following angels lead, now wouldn't I?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, "I'm not an angel, Dean. Not really."

Dean frowned at the tone he heard in her words. He'd spent the last few years watching his brother in a similar struggle. Feeling more than human, but less than what he was. Feeling he had no place in the world because of something he couldn't control.

"Did Cas tell you why you fell, Sarah?"

"Yeah...I get it. If someone told me to kill a child, I wouldn't be able to...even now. Even if it meant getting my grace back."

He glanced at her, frowning, and looking back at the road. "Angels love to leave out details. It wasn't just a kid. It was a baby. You refused to kill a baby. So Michael ripped your grace from you."

"Michael? As in Michael the Archangel?" She was looking at him now, and the way she said it made his jaw clench in anger and frustration. "I take it you two have met."

"More or less."

"Care to share?"

"No."

Watching him, she bit the inside of her bottom lip for a long moment before speaking again, "Why him? I thought I just lost it."

"Michael was your mated. Like Cas and Nora."

Blinking rapidly, Sarah paused and nodded slowly, "I see."

"No...you really don't." Dean glanced between her and the road again as he spoke, "Michaels a douchebag. With absolutely no concern for anyone but himself, and his stupid destiny that he thinks he can't control. Sam and I, though...we've got ideas. Things up our sleeves. It's not going to pan out the way they want it to."

Sarah looked away, fighing the panic. Dean glanced to her again and sighed, "You won't have to do it, Sarah."

"I won't. I refuse."

"It won't come to that. Mantha's not stupid. She won't do what they think she'll do."

"I know that. Heck, who knows that better than me? Still...if it happens, I won't do it. Nora said I had no choice? There's always a choice."

They descended into silence again as they drove, about an hour from their destination.

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_Freshly clean, Samantha stepped from the tub, grabbing and wrapping the large grey towel about her frame. It had helped, marginally, the pain in her mind. Feeling relaxed now, she braced herself by her hands on the sink. Yes, much better. Grabbing the one for her hair, she used it to wipe the mirror and jumped at the face she saw there. Clutching her hand over the top of the towel, she turned, pressing her back into the sink._

"_Lucifer," she aknowledged quietly._

_He stood, leaning against the wall of the bathroom, regarding her silently, a ghost smile of both happiness and pleasure on his face._

"If you're here it means I'm dreaming, right?"

_The smirk was slow, and though she could see his vessel was falling apart, he shouldered off the wall, "You're very smart, you know that?"_

"_Stow it, satan. Compliments won't get you anywhere."_

_First, the chuckle came, encompassing his chest as he vibrated with it. He then tilted his head in a slightly insane gesture, staring at her. Just stared, as if he could see into her, into her mind and soul. Only it wasn't a comfortable feeling. Like he was ready to peel the flesh from her bones, and her brows decended over her eyes. Neither spoke until she clenched her toes against the floor beneath her. "What?"_

"_You know now."_

_Rolling her eyes, she nodded."That I'm an abomination? Yeah. I was made aware, thanks."_

"_Oh foolish angel," he said stepping forward. Taking her face in his hands, much like a father would a child, he bent to look her in the eyes. "You are special. There is only one other of your kind on this entire planet. Do you not realize how truly unique and special you are?"_

"_Not according to your brother and sister."_

"_Nora and Castiel are peons. Their opinions mean nothing. You and I...we're kindred souls. You realize this?"_

"_No," Samantha denied quickly, too quickly._

"_We are," he said smiling and releasing her, stepping away. He leaned against the wall again, looking into her eyes, "Two beings spurned by all creation simply for existing."_

"_You're wrong. You had a choice and made it. I had none."_

"_I didn't. Not like you think. You misunderstand everything about me."_

_The look she shot him said, 'Do I look like an idiot?'_

"_You don't believe me?"_

"_I've read the bible, Lucifer. I know you're not a good guy."_

_Raising his chin in child-like curiosity, he spoke slowly, "The bible was written by humans."_

"_Per Gods instruction."_

"_You prove my point, love."_

_Eyes narrowed, she shook her head, "Why are you here?"_

"_I suspected that my brother and sister did not tell you of your purpose. Your reason for exhistence. And further, why you were not slaughtered as an infant, why you were not trained as a hunter."_

"_You don't know. Anything you tell me is a lie."_

"_Not true," he said, shaking his head, "You can't trust anyone, Mantha. Including the fallen angel at your side."_

"_You mean my sister?" Her ire was rising. One thing you did not do. Do not mess with Sarah._

"_Would you still call her such if you knew her mother was the one who murdered yours?"_

_Samantha opened her mouth to speak and closed it, her widened eyes falling to the floor in shock. Quickly, she brushed the feeling away, "You lie."_

"_I do not. How enraged do you think Ezraiah was when she found her mated had fornicated with a human and birthed a child?"_

_Samantha's silence was answer enough. It couldn't be true, could it? _

"_Myriam was a wonderful mother to you. But that didn't matter to my sister, so strong was her rage. It didn't matter. Love didn't matter. She possessed a vessel, however temporarily, came to earth, and slew your mother while she cleaned your room."_

_She remembered. Coming home to an empty house, finding the bloodied and destroyed body of her mother. Crimson liquid across the floor. She'd been only eight..._

"_Remember how you held yourself in the corner of the room for days, waiting for her to wake up? Ezraiah punished you as well...by letting you live."_

_Samantha's answering scream spurned her forward, "You lie!"_

Gasping, she shot forward from the tub, splashing cool water around her. It had been a long time since she'd fallen asleep in the bath. Now, though, she felt the heat of rage on her face. Had he been lying? He was the devil, he played in lies. But what if...what if he'd told the truth? What if Sarah's mother really had murdered her own?

Still, that wasn't her fault, she thought. It wasn't as if Sarah could control her mother. Right? No, she wouldn't let him win that way. She couldn't let him drive a wedge through the only person she had left in this world. Rising, for real this time, she wrapped herself in the towel, refusing to wipe the mirror, and wrapped her hair in one as well. Stepping from the bathroom, her eyes haunted with thought, she didn't see Sam until he was speaking.

"Better?"

He was seated at the wooden table, and the door to the bedroom was open. The table was littered with various papers and a small coffee mug. His hands hovered over the keys of his computer as he looked at her. Feeling her face flame with color, she gave a single nod, and moved to the door, shutting it firmly on him.

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"I'm Agent Milton, this is my partner Agent Jenkins."

The deputy nodded at them and stepped aside, leading them toward the body, speaking as they walked. "No one saw anything. Homeless man found the body, called us and then took off. Looks like he was ripped to death by a wolf. We don't have wolves in this neck of the woods though."

Sarah fought the impending nausea at the kids body. This is what her sister had seen in her vision? Did she always see this kind of thing? Taking a deep and quiet breath, she let Dean do the talking while she got her sea legs, so to speak.

"Anything weird been going on in the area?"

"Besides a kid being ripped apart by god knows what? No...not that I can think of."

Dean nodded his response, "Great, thanks."

As they walked away, Sarah was frowning, "Aren't Oracles supposed to see visions that we need to prevent?"

"She's going to see whatever the angels shove in her head," Dean responded, "And for whatever reason, that's this."

Getting into the car, they both paused, before Dean glanced at her, "I'm pretty sure it was a hell hound."

"So you think there's a demon around here making deals?"

"I think..." he confirmed, staring at her. "How many times did you read those books?"

"I used to like supernatural things."

"Yeah, well, welcome to the real world."

The car pulled slowly away from the curb.


End file.
